#sorry if this makes no sense it is late and. i thought about her

[girlofghosts]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ the way i loved you | harry potter

₊ ⊹ summary: after the tri-wizard tournament, you really don't think your best friend, harry, could've possibly survived it. but he always amazes you—especially after your little reunion, when harry realizes he really doesn't waste any time anymore.

₊ ⊹ warnings: best friends to lovers, first times but not sex, kissing, dry humping, mutual pining, getting caught after but not during, readers not a gryffindor but it's not even a plot point so don't worry

₊ ⊹ a/n: first fic kinda nervy... not proofread it's 3:25 am sorry but i'm barely posting this i kinda hate it like a lot

"...Has anyone seen Harry?" You find yourself saying as you try and apologize your way through the crowds of people in the area, finally landing eyes on Ron and Hermione.

Surely they'd know. And know they did, as Hermione turns to you and says, "Harry's still in there. Haven't gotten eyes on them though."

God, you're sure your heart was nearly beating out of its chest, and it didn't help that you were heating up just from running around in the middle of June in the swarming heat.

Hermione's hand on your back is all you can focus on as you try to convince yourself Harry Potter is not dead. He couldn't be. Injured, at most—

"Y/N?" You hear your name, and by god you've never felt more relief in your life over your name.

The familiar sight of round glasses askew and messy brown hair grounds you as you rush past Hermione and Ron admittedly quickly before halting at the sight—Cedric Diggory unmoving beside him.

"By god, tell me that's your blood on your face." You breathe out, a bit frazzled at the situation, moving to kneel beside him, thumb moving to wipe the deeply wounded scratch on his jaw.

He nods, and at your relief, he snickers, "never took you to be relieved over me being wounded."

"You know what I mean, god, you're so stupid—" your first instinct is to scold, to tell him he shouldn't have gotten hurt. That he shouldn't have been so reckless.

That he shouldn't have given you such a scare.

"Shh, shh," he sighs, still a bit breathless from it all, "save that for later when I'm not so... Winded."

Letting out a defeated sigh in return, you apologize, "I'm sorry. You just really fucking scared us, y'know that? God, I thought you'd died—" you pull him into a tight, desperate hug.

He just takes the hug, the warm touches, greeting Hermione and Ron as they make their way up to the scene as well, particularly engrossed in the solemn sight of the boy unconscious feet away.

Dumbledore finally makes his way up, students naturally clearing a path as he treads up the steps to the scene as well, face unreadable.

"Harry, you best... Clean yourself up, visit the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey can handle those for you, surely." Dumbledore proposes, more of an order than an offer, to which Harry complies with a subtle nod.

Leaning on you for support, he slowly but surely gets up, the other two allowing you to handle it. Hermione's soft nudge as you walk past them tells you all you need to know, really. She's in on it.

Hermione's always been the one to go to for anything, really. As much as she's enveloped in her studies, she seems to be a good multitasker in the sense she'll retain any information you give her as she's studying.

That's how your late night rambles began in your dorm, in the library, all of it. You talking about classes, family, boys, you name it—she knew.

As the Yule Ball approached that year, you'd began the talk of boys, and she was surprisingly interested. Talking about her own interests, particularly of Ron, though. How he treated her like some last choice...

And you, with your best friend, Harry. Though, you two went as friends, it felt particularly good having a multitude of people not know that. Thinking you two were one anothers dates. Especially during The Champions Waltz.

Either way, ever since then, Hermione knew when to leave you two to your endeavors, and to make Ron mind his business.

So when Ron seems to start to follow down the path after you and Harry, it's no surprise Hermione moves to grip his wrist gently to stop him.

"You're easily gonna need some kind of cast, unless you're trying to drink that god-awful bone growth potion again." Your arm is holding him up gently, and the touch has your stomach in knots.

"Don't even remind me, I'll never stop tasting that." He groans, leaning further into you, glancing over and up at you, "say, was Cedric... Was he alright?"

"I don't know." You admit, "I bet he'll be in the infirmary sooner or later. Surely."

Harry takes that as an answer, thankfully, and you two finally make your way into the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey front and center as she ushers Harry in and to one of the many open beds.

It's a while that you two are sat waiting as Madam Pomfrey puts random disinfectant items and healing gels on his wounds before sighing and wrapping up her procedure by wrapping a piece of cloth around his neck to alleviate some stress on his arm, slouching it like a makeshift sling.

"Well, dearie, there's not much else I can do. Magic can't heal it any further. Keep this on as much as you can, alright? Now head up to your dorm, I bet you'll be seeing a visit from Dumbledore soon." She rambles, "now go on."

It's a lot of information, but Harry nods, adjusting to the feeling of it elevated before moving to get off the bed, walking fine now, thankfully.

"Can we go to the dorms now?" Harry asks, looking over at you as you two walk out of the hospital wing.

"The Gryffindor dorms? I can take you, yeah." You reply, not quite taking it as an invitation, but rather a request.

"No, no, with me." He shakes his head, "please?"

It's weird, hearing him nearly plead, but quite frankly you aren't against it one bit.

"Why? And, well, there's no way your roommates aren't in there too." Your eyebrows furrow, confused by the proposition despite wanting to agree without a worry in the world.

"They wouldn't tell, if they're even there." Harry shakes his head, "I just... Don't really wanna be alone after all that."

You can't say no to that. And it's true, Ron, Dean, Seamus, or Neville would never tell a single soul.

It's a long walk up the dizzyingly confusing, moving stairs you can never quite get an understanding for, and down corridors you swear weren't there before. Surely enough, you find yourselves in front of the portrait of The Fat Lady, who lights up at the sight of a new face.

"Oh, who in the world is this now, Harry Potter? A girl from another house?" She nearly scolds.

"Balderdash," Harry tries to ignore her words that'll without a doubt sprout into a lesson.

"Harry Potter!" The portrait attempts to scold him for a second time.

"I know. Balderdash." He repeats, prompting the portrait to swing open, as he hears her continue while he brings you inside until you're in the Gryffindor common room.

"It's awfully quiet." You hum, "and... Empty."

"Maybe they all went back to classes for today." Harry sighs, readjusting his sling, "I'll show you to our years dorm." He changes the subject.

You comply easily, trailing behind him across the room to find a staircase, many offshoots, but you don't get a chance to look too much before he's opening the room to reveal five beds, each with a respective end table and chest, appropriately decorated and left lived in by the others before he finds his own and lies down with a small groan.

Stood a bit hesitantly in the entrance, you take in the empty room, before glancing back at Harry to see him gesturing for you to come over.

You move to sit beside him on the bed, despite the tight fit. He finally speaks up.

"Y'know how you said you thought I died?" He sighs, reminding you of your earlier words.

You don't understand it's importance, but nod.

"Well, for what it's worth, I thought I did too." His messy brown hair splays against the pillow as he lies his head down finally to get comfortable, "and it was... Kind of terrifying. And I've fought a basilisk." He lightens the mood. Or, tries to.

"Yeah?" The low hum of your voice fills the room, nodding as you listen, wondering where this is going.

"I kinda just..." He shifts in the bed, ending up a little closer than before to you, "I didn't realize people were serious when they said your life flashes before your eyes."

That seems to have your heart growing heavy.

"It was that bad? What even happened?" You ask, before realizing... Maybe that's not the best question right now, "er... Just, it was that bad?"

"It was like... I realized how much stuff I regretted not doing. And like... I could die at any time. It was really weird." Harry rambles, "like, there's so many things I realized I should be doing and haven't."

"Like what?" You hum, glancing back over at him despite him looking right up at the top of the canopy of his bed.

"...I didn't get to tell Ron or Hermione I loved them, since I guess I've never been the type to say that stuff even if I mean it. I haven't stopped Voldemort. I haven't proven the Dursleys wrong, haven't avenged my parents..."

"Haven't told you a lot of things I should've by now." He trails off, adding, finally looking over to gauge your reaction. You blink a few times at the bluntness.

"Like what?" You ask all too quickly, shifting.

"...You know I like you, Y/N, don't you?" He murmurs, looking away and back up at the canopy, "and that... That I was gonna ask you to the Yule Ball but totally chickened out." He also admits, vulnerably.

It's kind of a lot to process since he only continues to add fact after fact, each more daunting than the last.

"And that one time I went to your dorm for the night, snuck in, hid under the blankets so your roommates didn't know, I really wanted to do that over and over again. I tried to come by again one day, but the entry was seriously impossible." He goes on, "I just really like being with you, y'know?"

"Shh," you shush him, gently, when you two finally get to make eye contact, trying to sit with the thoughts so you could get a word in.

The way he looks up at you as if you're his entire world has you weak, quite frankly, and you're debating whether to handle this with your brain or heart.

...You opt for heart.

In a few secomds time, your hand moves down to cup his jaw before leaning down to comfortably kiss him, praying he reciprocates.

Thankfully, a few seconds after, he complies, spare hand moving to find your waist gently, the other arm still against the sling as his lips press back to yours.

"I just really don't wanna regret never telling you. Or getting to do any of this stuff that I've always wanted to. Especially when it feels like we could die any day." He murmurs against your lips, forehead pressed to yours as he catches a breath.

"Yeah?" You murmur back, "we'll make sure it happens." The reassurance of your voice is enough to relax him in his position beside you.

You're a bit more aware of your position, halfway hovering over him as he lies down. Surely, if he weren't wounded, it'd be the other way around. Maybe. Probably. It wasn't everyday you got him in bed with you.

"...I don't wanna rush, but I also don't wanna wait anymore. Does that make sense?" Harry asks, hand finding your waist and gently ghosting it.

"I understand, I think." You agree and breathe out, "but we better make a decision quick because we're getting way too comfortable with the idea that they won't come back anytime soon."

He tries to move before soon remembering his sore arm, wincing before watching you opt to move for him, "where d'you want me?"

The sharp breath he sucks in at that doesn't go unnoticed before asking, "in my lap, please?"

Complying, you move to sit on his lap, looking down at him. His free hand finds your thigh.

"Are we seriously doing this?" You ask him.

"Don't have to. Just... Really want to." He says honestly, "you're really, really bloody pretty, y'know that?"

The way he acts and talks is almost cautious, as if you being on his lap was the signal to take initiative right now. Well damn.

"...Thanks," you hum, a bit out of it. You're about to have sex with your best friend, aren't you?

Eyes closing for a moment, he has to take in another sharp yet shaky inhale as he takes in the sight of you on top of him. At least you know you have an effect on him.

Kissing was oddly the safest option in this situation, a thought you never thought you'd have. But here you were, leaning down to trap him in your arms as you lock your lips again, careful of his arm beside him before your chest are nearly against one anothers.

He doesn't speak, kissing you like you're a necessity for life, if not life itself.

Admittedly, you feel him harden against you, bur you can't blame him. You're fully pressed down in his lap, kissing him, shifting to get comfortable here and there.

That doesn't mean it's not surprising, though.

"You already hard?" You murmur against his lips, pulling away enough to talk with him, one hand brushing the hair from his eyes and fixing his glasses.

He nods back, looking up at you, a little breathless.

Well fuck. You're having sex with the guy you've been in love with since your first year. The guy where your puppy love for him turned one random day into admittedly raunchy thoughts you found yourself thinking of late at night.

That wasn't the point right now.

He lets out a soft groan out of seemingly nowhere, head falling back against the pillow as his eyes shut tight, mumbling repeatedly, "do that again..."

"Do what?" You ask, not torturously, but rather confusingly.

"Uhm—just... That." He sheepishly moves a hand to your rear to try and press you down against him once again. Oh. Okay.

So this seemed more realistic right now. Kissing and grinding. Clothes on, all that. You didn't feel as timid now, knowing what was going on.

"I can do that." You hum back, assessing your situation before moving your hands to rest on either side of his head on the bed, hovering over him.

"But bare with me. I've never..." You decide to let him finish that sentence for you, and he quickly picks up on it thankfully.

"Me neither. It's fine. Anything you do feels good, really." He decides to admit in hopes of assuring you.

You nod softly, the high expectations you originally had for yourself lowering thankfully as you seem to feel the pressure lift from your shoulders.

Hips grinding, you press back down into his lap, your own hips stuttering at the feeling as you let out a shaky exhale.

Admittedly, he was in his usual uniform pants, and you your skirt, where this basically had you grinding your panties against him given the position. Any sensatations were heightened and your immediate shudders had him groaning.

"...Keep doing that, please." He pleads a little weakly. You didn't know whether he was always such a taker or if the daunting event had him needing to get taken care of for once.

You weren't not going to, either, though.

"I won't stop, don't worry," you hum, hips gliding over his, feeling him press up against you as you let out your own caught off guard whimper.

"You're so pretty," he repeats, hand finding your waist like before, before moving to move your hair out of your way, "thank god you like me—fuck."

"Yeah? Thank god I like you?" You let out a breathy laugh, before faltering to let out a small gasp, hips stuttering at a particularly good movement that you find yourself repeating for a few moments.

He nods, repeatedly, neck arching against the pillow, "fuck, oh," he bucks his hips, hand steadying yours, "bloody hell..."

You decide not to let up, wondering if that was what he'd need to get off, trying to think of what you'd want in his situation, and he reels.

"Hah, ah, Y/N," his hips buck once more, "need you to cum, too." He pleads.

It's not that you didn't love this, because you loved every second of it, but you weren't close. Not as close as him, anyway.

"Can't, 's okay." You shake your head, "not about me today. Next time."

He snakes his open hand down to your thigh before trying to get your skirt up with one hand and find your panties with the same one. You give in and hold your skirt up for him, wondering where he was going with this.

"Show me where to touch," he looks up, letting you move your own hand to guide his, right to your clothed clit over your panties, hips twitching.

He runs repeated circles over that spot, trying to find the right pace.

"Little faster," you hum, hand now on his thighs behind you, the other letting the skirt fall as you secure yourself on his lap, leaned back, hips experimentally grinding forward again.

"Now do smaller circles," your nods spur him on, and he's seemingly keen on figuring this out right here, right now.

He finally gets it, thumb on your clit, circling at the perfect speed, as you rolled your hips against his clothed cock, watching him twitch at your touch.

Not only that, but he seems to be trying to get you to cum first. His thumb persistent, trying not to get too horny from the sight and feeling of a pretty girls hips rolling against his.

"Harry? Harry, I'm close," you hum, moving back to hover more closely over him, "think you can cum with me?" You hum. You doubt it, simply since he seems so pent up, so sensitive.

"Cum with you? Oh, fuck," he rolls his hips up desperately, making you whine, and him orgasm, totally moaning out as he relaxes against the bed. He bucks his hips repeatedly, long, thorough thrusts against you.

"Harry, *please*," you whine. You don't orgasm at the same time, but during his, as he comes down. He simply keens at your reaction.

"I'm, fuck, I'm..." You roll your hips down, struggling, feeling him shakily move your hips with his hand as he continues to sensitively grind up against you, pants admittedly wet.

Your panties were no better, and you knew that, so you weren't one to talk.

You come crashing down with his meticulous movements he'd learned only minutes ago, whimpering before whining softly as your hips stutter and he guides you through it.

"You got it." He murmurs, reassuringly, rubbing your hips gently as you come down.

Quite frankly, you didn't even feel present after that. Here you were, in Harry's bed, limp in his lap, legs shaky with your head pressed to his chest.

"...We're dating, right?" You breathe out.

"Just let me ask you properly, like you deserve." He sighs with a soft nod, "later. When I can actually... Think. And breathe. And... All of that."

You like the sound of that. And he doesn't seem as stressed as he was earlier about all that... Existential, the world is ending stuff.

"What in the—oh, god, you two—" a loud voice makes you both tense, and Harry grip your waist a little tighter. Ron.

"Get out—!" Harry instinctively calls back out, "10 more minutes, I swear!" He sighs.

"...Did you two—" Ron tries to ask again.

"10 minutes, Ron." Harry huffs. That seems to get Ron to comply, thankfully, and the door closes behind him as he rushed down the stairs.

"...He's gonna tell Hermione." Harry huffs, sheepishly.

"She won't be surprised." You admit. There was no way she didn't see this coming with the things you'd tell her about your crush on him.

"What?" Harry blinks a few times before sighing, "y'know what? I... I don't wanna know. Just lie back down."

He sighs, bringing your head back to his chest and running a hand through your hair, and really, all you were thinking about were his words:

"Let me ask you properly. Like you deserve."

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@zepskies

Merry Christmas to you too my wonderful friend!🎄💗

Aww poor Ben. I love how we start with shading in his past Christmases compared to what he's starting to experience now with the reader. We come at it from the same angle of headcanon, that Ben's mom was the only person who truly loved him in his family. So it was such a good detail that after she died, Christmases became just more of the same toxic/apathetic atmosphere with his father, compounded by the impact of his mom's death.

Thank you! I love this headcanon and I really hope that in the prequel series "Vought Rising" that we're able to see a little more of Ben's relationship with his father and hopefully let us learn more about his mother. I know that this headcanon is a little "dean-like" but I think it also kinda plays into the "angel in the house" phenomenon that started in the mid to late 1800s. But the headcanon to me, makes sense. Ben has so many issues with his dad and I honestly don't think that if his mother was around that Ben's father would give him such a hard time or allow Ben to grow up in that kind of enviornment.

I also wanted to give Ben some "happy" memories from his childhood that he could compare what the reader was doing for him to something that was familiar and something that resonated with him😊, something about Christmas that was "familiar."

Lmfao come on, Ben. Let's not take this out on others. 🤣

He is the KING of taking it out on others LOL 😂 He also takes it out on Hughie in this fic and I felt so bad doing that to Hughie, but it is so in character for Ben 😒

Wow, that's so interesting. Taking a trip literally through Memory Lane and walking through his family's mansion. I've never thought about that before, but I imagine it would be one of those things that Ben, for the longest time, couldn't bring himself to sell, but also couldn't visit. Like a mausoleum of his old life.

I use this headcanon in my other series Madness, (same with Ben's mother), but to me it seems to make sense. That Ben would have a family mansion somewhere that is full of terrible memories from his father being a total jerk to him and never wanted to set foot inside. "Like a mausoleum of his old life" EXACTLY! It's just a big drafty old house that Ben can't go into because even though he says he's not afraid of anything, he can still feel his father's disapproval and disappointment, and going "home" to where he grew up would only make it worse.

Ben doesn't know what a home is because of what his father did, and now the reader is slowly showing him what it means. I also low-key wanna write the fic of her and him coming back to his house and him being hesitant and her just wandering around in complete shock. 🤔

You're killin' me, friend!! 😭😭

Girl, I'm so sorry 😭😭😭 I had to 😂 It's really just pouring on the hurt and he just really loved his mom 😭

Lmaooo deeply relatable. I feel like it would be oh so funny to intentionally getting on his nerves (knowing he wouldn't hurt you). 😂

I knoooowwww. 😂 I love that about your BMD reader, that she isn't afraid to tease him and he just absolutely HATES it, but he loves her so he can't do anything about it and she knows it. I'll bet that he thinks the real problem is that she knows it LOL 😂

Oh, it's because he actually cares. 💗

He does, man is a total SIMP 😊

People want to think there aren't any good aspects to "traditional/old-fashioned" men, but for the men who are actually good men, traditional doesn't necessarily mean outdated or toxic, so thank you for including this tidbit.

Thank you! 😊 You're right, I think that there's a disconnect about the idea that a "traditional/old-fashioned" man can't be respectful and is always labeled "sexist" or "toxic." And it's wrong, because you can find a man who is respectful, forward thinking, and who has those "old-fashioned/traditional" values (CHIVALRY! 😂) that really translate into putting their girl first, being respectful of what she wants to say, trying to protect her (not because they don't think she can protect herself, but because they want to), and doing things for her (again not because they think she can't do it herself) but because they genuinely care about her. It's the difference between a man and a boy tbh 💅🏻

Her gift to him was so very sweet!! Of course she made him something heartfelt, and he appreciated it because it was a genuine "first" for him, having someone give him a hand-made gift from the heart. 💚💚💚

I know 💗, I really wanted the reader to make something for him, just so that he could again be reminded how much that she loves him and isn't staying with him just because it's convenient or because he's attractive or because she's settling. Also I like that you picked up on the "first" thing again, because that was exactly what I was trying to do lol 😊. It's hard to find firsts for a guy who's over 100 years old 😂

And his gift to her was absolutely perfect. 🥹 A keepsake from his mother? Him basically saying he wishes she could've met his girl? I'm dying of happiness from the sheer fluff. 😭💗

This one was extremely fluffy, but so fun to write! Ben getting her a gift that meant something so intimate to him that he wouldn't have given to anyone else in the past, really just made me melt when I wrote it 🥺 Because he's never wanted to share those pieces of himself with someone else and now he has the reader and I'm just *crying*😭. AND yes! Him saying that he would have brought her home to meet his mom just destroyed me 😭

This was a beautiful addition to the Take a Chance story, and kind of feels like an epilogue in a way, even though I know you're working on that one too. I loved this, friend!!

Thank you so much my wonderful talented friend! 🥰 It really does read like an epilogue and I did not notice that lol 😅

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV, Soldier Boy POV and Reader POV

Summary:  All Soldier Boy wants for Christmas is to find the perfect gift for you and all you want is for your boyfriend to have the best Christmas he has in forty years. Reader is a supe with plant powers. (Takes place in my Take A Chance On Me Series- 4 months after they get together, but can be read as stand alone!)

Tropes: Established Relationship, First Christmas, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Soft Ben/ Soldier Boy, Protective Ben/Soldier Boy

Word Count: 8.5K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), Swearing, Mentions of Sex, Sexual Innuendo, Illusions to Sex, Fluff, Soft Soldier Boy, A little bit of self-deprecating thoughts, Soldier Boy is Mean to Hughie, Mention of drinking/drugs, Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Take A Chance On Me Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Song Inspiration: Little Things By ABBA

A/N: I know I should be working on the epilogue of "Take a Chance on Me," but @zepskies wrote a lovely Christmas fic called 'Twas the Night for Dean Winchester, and it really just got me in a mood to write some Christmas Fluff! 🥰

Soldier Boy POV

Ben frowned at the delicate necklace laid on the black velvet cloth in front of him, the 10 carat diamonds catching in the brilliant lights that lined the ceiling of the jewelry store. It was the eleventh piece of jewelry that he'd asked the woman behind the counter to remove from the display case, and it still wasn't right.

Ben had waited until the last possible moment to go Christmas shopping. It wasn't because he'd forgotten or because he'd been so busy he hadn't had time to shop or because he'd been called away on a mission, but rather Ben kept putting it off because he didn't want to think about it.

It was his first Christmas back in the U.S, and it was already proving to be one so different than the ones he'd known before.

Christmas for him in his youth when his mother was alive was filled with light and joy. Each room of his family's mansion strung with tinsel, adorned with holly and festive wreaths, and a Christmas tree so large that it put all others to shame and sent the smell of pine wafting thorough the large home. He remembered the lavish parties his mother threw with women in gorgeous gowns and men dressed in suits taking crystal glasses from silver trays, remembered the warmth in the kitchen as his mother baked and rolled fresh pastry, remembered the taste of the hot chocolate on the tip of his tongue that his mother made him before she sent him to bed on Christmas Eve, and remembered her tight embrace and the smell of her floral perfume on Christmas morning when he'd run down the stairs into the living room.

Ben's jaw tightened.

Christmas without her was different, the large mansion where he lived with his father was cold and dark. The hallways desolate and frozen in the winter months that lead into spring, the kitchen no longer heated by the warmth of the oven or infused with the smell of gingerbread, the parlor no longer tinkling with the sounds of glasses and the laughter of guests, the living room no longer housed a Christmas tree so tall that it made the Eiffel tower look like a trinket, and there were no longer Christmas parties where people danced into the wee hours of the morning and poured themselves into bed smelling of champagne and eggnog.

All that was left was the drunken stupor of his father, the harsh words that echoed down the long hallways, and the urge for Ben to find the nearest bottle and drown himself in it.

Ben spent most of his years as a supe trying to forget the years that followed his mother's death and also his Christmases as a supe washing away the memory of the ones that seemed to be infused with the magic of Christmas in his youth.

Ben spent them at Legend's Christmas party with his woman of the hour clinging to his arm, making painful small talk and waiting until the party turned into a hedonistic thrall of sweat and skin as so many others had. And the next morning when he woke up from the fog, he turned back to the little white line that promised to make him forget and the amber bottle that did little to ease the reality that started to sink in.

But this year was different, because he had you.

You who loved Christmas more than anyone he'd ever met, you who was slowly reminding him how much he used to love Christmas as a child, you who'd dragged him to go Christmas tree shopping before Thanksgiving, you who had encouraged him to help decorate the small apartment the two of you shared with so many Christmas lights it was blinding,  and you who had planned something Christmas themed every week for the past month whether it be baking Christmas cookies or watching Christmas movies while drinking hot chocolate on the couch. And in each moment, you'd found some way to include him in it.

Ben wasn't used to that.

He wasn't used to someone wanting him there with them and someone like you going out of your way to include him in everything you did.

If a person had tried to tell him in the past that he'd ended up with someone like you, someone who smiled easily, someone who always put other people first, someone who actually gave a shit about him, someone who was always so damn warm and welcoming, someone who included in him everything you did in a way that didn't make Ben feel like an old grump, and someone who tried their best to make sure that Ben remembered every day that you wanted him around, he would have laughed in that person's face.

And yet there you were.

Truth be told Ben knew that the old version of him probably wouldn't have let someone like you close to him, let alone fall in love with them.

Ben hadn't met anyone else like you in the numerous years he'd been alive and he really didn't want to fuck it up. He'd fucked up so many other things in his life and he hadn't cared, but if it involved you, he wouldn't dare.

Hence, the current dilemma of him standing in the crowded Tiffany store at 8 pm two days before Christmas with you waiting at home for him to exchange gifts. Ben wanted to pick the perfect gift for you, but nothing felt right.

He'd never given much thought to what to buy someone for Christmas. In the past usually an expensive piece of jewelry, a handbag, a dress, or a car would have made any of Ben's many escapades swoon, but not you. Ben had tried to give you jewelry before, expensive jewelry that would have made any of those other women drop to their knees, but you were different.

And as much as Ben loved that about you, it was only making this worse for him.

The one time that he'd tried to give you a gift outright, a beautiful diamond and emerald drop pendant with earrings to match, you hadn't been impressed. Sure, you'd thought that it was beautiful, but you'd told him that you liked gifts that "meant something."

Whatever the fuck that meant.

And he knew for a fact that the 10 carat diamond necklace on the velvet pillow in front of him would mean nothing to you.

"Fuck." Ben murmured under his breath, and the saleswoman stiffened.

"Still not quite right?" She asks, adjusting the sleeves of her navy blue blazer. "We have some bigger jewel-"

"It's not the fucking size." Ben snaps frustrated.

He was running late.  He knew that you were waiting at home for him to bring back dinner and to give him his present, the one that he was sure would be thoughtful and perfect for him because you were always so damn caring.

The other shoppers were pushing and shoving their way to the counters where other salespeople stood in identical navy blazers and white button down shirts, the tension and buzz of two days to Christmas electrifying the air, while Christmas music that Ben couldn't recognize played in the background.

His supe hearing made it worse. Sometimes it was a bit overwhelming and as much as Ben pretended that he didn't have PTSD, he did. Being surrounded by this many people was not helping. It was in moments like this when you were there, would hold entwine your fingertips with his and brush your thumb gently over the back of his hand to ground him as if you could sense his discomfort.

Ben hadn't ever had someone care enough to notice things like that. Another reason why he wanted to find you the perfect gift, because you put up with all his shit and didn't ask for anything in return.

"Ben?" He hears a familiar voice ask, hesitant, and he turns to see Annie standing a few feet inside the open doorway. S

he's wearing a black puffer jacket and her hair is hidden under a red stocking cap, while Hughie holds the door for her. Hughie's arms were laden down with bags while Annie's remained bare. The winter wind blew in through the space, flecking bits of snow onto the rugs that had been laid out to avoid the customers sliding through the sludge.

"Hey." Ben grunts, not quite smiling.

He wasn't good at talking to your best friend or her boyfriend. Personally he thought that Hughie was a fucking pussy and that he didn't have the balls to tell Annie no, but the one time Ben had told you that, you'd only rolled your eyes and told him that Hughie "loved Annie."

Ben loved you and he did have the balls to tell you no, but Ben thought that sometimes it was better to keep his mouth shut and do what you asked. Not to mention Ben hated saying no to you when it was something that could make you happy. Ben liked making you as happy as you made him. 

He flinched at the thought. The self-deprecating monologue was beginning to seep in, the one that told him you were turning him into a "pussy" and that he should cut and run. The same monologue that made him make a mistake and run back to Vought a few months ago when he should have run to you.

Ben shakes it off.

"What are you doing here? I thought you two were going to leave this morning for Illinois?" Annie asks in surprise used to Ben's grouchy demeanor.

Your grandmother turned Christmas into a two day extravaganza, complete with a Christmas Eve and a Christmas Day party. And although Ben and you were supposed to begin the 14 hour drive to Illinois this morning, your grandmother had insisted the two of you catch a flight first thing tomorrow.

"Decided to catch a flight tomorrow." Ben replies.

Ben was secretly happy, because flying meant that he wasn't going to have to drive 14 hours in the snow. The two of you had driven to Illinois once before, and Ben hadn't minded it. You’d been more upset with him for not letting you drive, but Ben liked driving. Driving meant that he was in control and in an emergency situation he wouldn't have to reach over the console and yank the wheel to save the two of you and driving meant that you could relax in the passenger seat and work on whatever it was you were crocheting.

"Like us!" Hughie flashes Ben a wide smile that Ben doesn't feel the need to return. “You should have told us. We could have all traveled together!”

Ben's frown deepens at the thought at being stuck in a metal tube for hours with Hughie and he knew that if you were here you would probably elbow him in the side and tell him to "be nice." If anyone had ever tried to do that to him in the past, he would have ripped their arm off, but not you.

"Last minute shopping?" Hughie asks trying again.

Ben dragged his eyes over the numerous bags hanging from Hughie's arms. "Yeah. You too?"

"Mhmm. We just finished." Annie replies. Her gaze drops to the diamond necklace on top of the display case that the saleswoman is fiddling with. "Is that for-"

"No. Of course not!" Ben says sharper than he means to, shoulders tensing. But him standing in this store when he knew that you were waiting at home for him to celebrate Christmas made him feel like Annie and Hughie had caught him red-handed. "She doesn't like jewelry." He adds referring to you as he takes a step back from the counter and the sales associate who looks confused.

“But sir-“ The woman begins to say, but Ben waves a hand to shut her up.

"Why do you think that?" Annie asks interrupting the woman.

"Because she yelled at me when I bought her that diamond and emerald necklace!" He shouts so loud that some of the other customers turn to stare at him. "This was a fucking mistake, I have to go-" Ben starts to stomp out the door and past Annie not sure where he's going, but she shifts to stand in his way. His eyes narrow in annoyance, thinking about all the ways that he could move her.

He only put up with Annie because she was your best friend and he knew that if he did anything to her then it would upset you, and Ben didn't like upsetting you.

Well, he did think that it was cute when you got angry with him. Your eyebrows scrunched together, your cheeks turned a cute shade of pink, and your eyes seemed to glow with the force of your anger. There were few people who had the courage to tell him off, but the more you did it, the more he started to like it.

But this was different, and now thinking about you only reminded him of his current dilemma.

"Ben, wait a minute." Annie says.

"What?" He snaps

He could practically feel the seconds ticking away until he had to go back to the apartment. It was the first time that he'd ever dreaded going home and seeing you and fuck he hated every single moment of it.

"She does like jewelry." Annie's mouth drops into a sympathetic smile.

Ben tried not to get more angry when he saw the pitying look in her eye. He didn't need her pity, didn't need anyone's pity! He was still Soldier Boy damnit!

"Then why the fuck did she-"

"She doesn't like this kind of jewelry." Annie clarifies. "She like vintage stuff, simple, refined. Hell, I have to practically drag her away from the display cases at Atomic Archives."

"Atomic Archives?" Ben asks hesitantly. He had no idea what Annie was talking about. You'd never mentioned that place before.

"Yeah, it's our favorite antique store. It’s about two blocks over from where the plant shop used to be.”

"Can you show me where it is?" Ben says it before he can stop himself, his heart surging with hope at the possibility of finding the perfect gift for you.

"I mean I-" Annie begins to say, but Hughie interrupts.

"Babe, didn’t you say that the owner was closed this week because she went out of town?" Hughie asks her, throwing a sympathetic look in Ben's direction that made him bristle.

"Oh, right." Annie sighs.

Ben felt the hope inside pop and deflate like a pricked balloon, but the longer he stood there in the crowded shop, with the ostentatious jewelry twinkling under the lights, the buzz of the chatter of other shoppers, and the ridiculous new-age Christmas music that grated on his ears, he began to have an idea.

"Come on." Ben might have said it as a suggestion, but it wasn’t open for debate. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he needed Annie and unfortunately that meant that Hughie was going to tag along.

"What?" Annie sputtered.

"Come the fuck on. I don’t have time for this." Ben snaps back and stomps out the doorway past Annie and Hughie into the snow.

"But what about-" Hughie begins to say and Ben whirls around to glare at him, eyes narrowing. "Okay you got it. Lead the way buddy." Hughie nods his head in agreement.

"I'm not your fucking buddy." Ben sighs under his breath.

Soldier Boy POV

"This place is really murdery." Ben hears Hughie whisper to Annie from somewhere behind him. "Do you think Ben is going to try to kill us? Should I call Butc-"

"I'm not going to fucking kill you!" Ben snaps, pulling out his keys, the jingle of the metal echoing down the long hallway. "And I guess you really can't make a decision without that British fuck can you?”

The storage unit warehouse was desolate, but that was to be expected, it was after all two days to Christmas and most were more focused on buying things to put in their storage units than moving things out. The lights along the roof of the steel gray hallway flicker and throw long shadows over the navy blue doors of the units doing little to alleviate the creepy aura.

In hindsight Ben did agree that this particular storage space was "murdery," but it was the only one that he could get close to the apartment last minute. The same apartment that Ben has been trying to convince you to move out of.

It wasn't the safest neighborhood, and Ben hated the thought that you'd lived there as long as you had, walking home at night alone before he moved in. Now it wasn't a problem because Ben never let you walk by yourself. And as hard as you'd fought him not to live in a "big fancy apartment" all Ben wanted was to live somewhere where he could imagine staying permanently. Not in a small one bedroom apartment where he had to stoop in the shower, the bed barely fit in the bedroom, and seemed too small for one person let alone two.

He knew that he was wearing you down, but he still had a long way to go.

"Why are we here then?" Hughie asks.

"You're here because your girlfriend wouldn’t come without you.” Ben rolls his eyes as he fits the key into the thick padlock.

He was getting tired of listening to Hughie’s whining. He heard enough of that when he was stuck on missions with him, but he was tolerating him, for the moment at least. He had to, because if he didn't then he was never going to be able to find the perfect gift for you.

The interior of the storage unit isn't anything special. Ben didn't have much that he wanted to keep from his old life, as a supe or from his childhood. The things inside this storage unit were the only things that Ben had left that didn't cause him to be reminded of how his father chastised him or the drafty home that Ben returned to each time he got kicked out of another boarding school.

The mansion that had been in his family for decades had sat abandoned and locked up, hidden from the main roads so it was undisturbed after Ben's father died. Ben had gone to Philadelphia a few months ago to get things in order with the bank and prepare it for sale, but had been surprised when you told him you wanted to come.

He didn't think that you'd want to be involved in something so tedious, but it was almost as if you could sense how hard it was going to be for him, and you'd insisted.

Ben had no intention of setting foot inside, but you were curious and even though it made Ben's throat tight to walk down the dusty cobwebbed halls, the wonder on your face as you walked through made the cold memories of the world he knew before he was a supe fade into the background.

And this storage unit was all that was left of that life.

Ben located the old steamer trunk with ease. It was a faded gray now, but Ben remembered the day his father bought it for his mother. When the grayed sides were a soft supple black, the metal lock and edging were a polished gold, and the rose patterned fabric that lined the inside was soft and covered in bright pink flowers.

When Ben opens the trunk, he catches the smell of the floral perfume his mother used to wear and after all these years it makes him remember the tight hugs she'd give him the moment she sent him off to bed and the tight hugs she'd given him when he rushed down the stairs on Christmas morning.

He didn't like thinking about her or talking about her, but sometimes he would think of her when he was with you. Whenever you did something caring without being asked or whenever you took the time to check in to see how he was doing. Not that you were motherly, just that Ben hadn't had anyone in a long time care about little things like that.

The only other "relationship" he'd tried to have was with Crimson Countess and she didn't do any of the things for him that you did. There wasn't any comparison between the two of you as far as Ben was concerned.

He shakes off the memory the way he always does and moves some of his mother's clothes for the cherry wood carved box that he knows is in the bottom.

He opens it slowly, extracting a small velvet box from within, one of many inside that Ben probably should have taken to the bank ages ago for safe keeping. Ben's father had a tendency to buy things for his mother whenever he "messed up" and the small velvet boxes inside were proof of that.

Ben turns back to where Annie and Hughie are watching with curiosity at the door of the storage unit. "Here."

"Here?" Annie says hesitantly looking at the velvet box in Ben's hand.

"You brought us out here for a box?" Hughie huffs.

Ben narrows his eyes. "No. And if you tell anyone about this I'll turn you inside out, ass-wipe."

"Why do you always have to be so-" Hughie begins to say, but Annie nudges him in the side.

Ben wondered briefly if Annie and Hughie also tried to tolerate him the same way that he tolerated them for you.  

"Wow." Annie says, her voice hushed and reverent when she opens the box with strands of her blonde hair falling out around the hat.

"You think she'll like it?" Ben clears his throat, trying not to wince at the question.

He hated that he was relying on Annie for this or relying on anyone in general. Ben would have rather taken a long walk off a short pier than anyone for help, but he was just so desperate to make sure that the first Christmas the two of you spent together was perfect.

You deserved that and Ben wanted to give it to you.

"She will."

"Good." Ben takes the box back, but decides to bring the wooden box with him back to the apartment just in case. His eyes narrow as he looks over at Hughie. "If you tell anyone about this, I'll shove your head up Butcher's ass. Then again, you two would probably enjoy something like that."

"You're welcome." Annie raises an eyebrow.

"Whatever." Ben mutters.

Reader POV

Ben was late and you were starting to worry.

Not that Ben was always punctual. The man was about as punctual as the White Rabbit, but rather Ben was sure to let you know when he was running late. Not to mention Ben was rarely late to things that he knew were important to you.

And tonight was special or at least you wanted it to be.

You look at your phone again to check the time, noting that it was nearing nine and Ben had told you he was going to be back at eight. You were trying not to think too much about it, busying yourself with other little things, like packing for your trip to your grandmother's home in Illinois. Something that you would have ended up doing about an hour before you had to go to the airport, but you knew that would only annoy Ben.

But you liked annoying him.

Ben's nostrils would flare, his jaw would flex, and the green of his eyes would darken in a way that sent a pleasurable shiver down his spine, but tonight you were too anxiety ridden at how late he was to care about making him annoyed.

Ben and you were supposed to leave this morning to drive the 14 hours to your hometown in Illinois, but you'd called your grandmother a few days ago and asked her if Ben and you could fly in instead.

You wanted the two of you have a Christmas alone before you dragged him back home and made him sit through the two holiday parties your grandmother threw. So you'd planned a quiet Christmas at home where the two of you could drink eggnog, watch some holiday movies, and exchange gifts before Ben was subjected to every single person you'd known since you were six.

But Ben didn’t seem to mind any of that.

Regardless, you were going all out this Christmas. It was Ben's first since he'd come back to the States and you wanted it to be perfect and it was the first Christmas the two of you were spending together as a couple.

The anxious energy that thrummed through your veins reached out into the numerous plants in your apartment, that shifted and stirred as your powers coaxed them forward. The vines that crept along the walls shook with an unnatural breeze, the Christmas tree grew an inch taller, the mistletoe hanging above the front door grew another few shimmering berries, the blackberry and raspberry vines that hung over your refrigerator fidgeted and wove together into a curtain while the tomato plant in the garden box above your sink dropped bright red fruit onto the counter, and the orange/lemon tree that sat behind your kitchen table blocking the view of the alley beyond shook it's branches for a moment. You could feel everything alive in your apartment leaning towards you as if waiting for your silent command.

Rex, the creature you'd created from broken vines and trampled leaves four months ago, flicks his eyes over to you sensing the same disturbance the rest of the plants inside could.

You bite the inside of your cheek fighting your urge to check your phone even though you know that less than a minute has passed since you'd last checked. Instead you fiddle with the ribbon on the lumpy wrapped gift that is perched on your lap.

Shopping for Ben had been difficult to say the least.

You weren't sure what to get your 104 boyfriend who'd lived as a hedonistic playboy for most of his life and you didn't like giving gift cards (you didn't think Ben would understand the concept) or giving people meaningless trinkets that they used once and then threw away (the Grinch was right about some things). You liked giving gifts that you put time and effort into that you were sure the recipient was going to love.

And you were sure that the package on your lap contained the perfect gift and you were excited to see the look on Ben's face when he unwrapped it.

Your cat Bean purrs where he sits beside you on the couch and Rex your, for lack of a better word, Dragon was watching the multicolored lights on the Christmas tree in the corner blink on and off.

It was bigger for your apartment than it should be, but Ben had insisted on getting it and you couldn't complain. Not when he genuinely seemed to be happy to stand there in the snow picking out a tree with you.

And after when no Uber driver agreed to pick the two of you up because of the tree, Ben had carried it on his shoulder fifteen blocks while you begged him to let you help. When you'd tried to take some of the tree, Ben had shifted it to his other shoulder and taken your hand instead, which wasn't what you meant when you reached out towards him, but you didn't let go, not when it was cold and Ben's hand was warm.

The one jammed into the corner of your small living room didn't have a leaf out of place or any signs of decay. You'd fixed that with a flick of a finger.

You'd gone all out with decorations.

Every plant in your apartment had lights of their own and ornaments that swung just out of reach from your pets. Christmas lights were strung down the hallway and there was a wreath on your bedroom door. Strands of mistletoe hung over every doorway in your apartment and there was one taped to the wall above your bed. That one was Ben's doing, but you couldn't complain, not when it felt so damn good to kiss him.

Ben hadn't spoken about the Christmases he spent in the past, but he'd listened to you talk about your Christmases growing up when the two of you decorated the tree with ornaments you'd collected over the years.

He might not have been big on sharing, but your boyfriend was good at listening. Not just pretending to listen, but actually being quiet and wanting to learn more about what you're saying. You'd thought it was odd when you became roommates and you realized just how much Ben listened and remembered what you told him, but now it was one of the reasons that made you love your boyfriend more.

You sighed, a happy smile on your face. You didn't think that you could feel this way about anyone, let alone someone you hated for so long, but you did. Ben was changing the belief you had about what relationships should look like, and you were sure that you were doing the same for him.

You hear the jingle of keys and the fumble of the doorknob as Ben slowly opens the front door and you leap from the couch.

"You're home!" You exclaim as your body hits his full speed, but he doesn't move. It was difficult for you to produce enough force to move him, difficult for anyone really.

Ben chuckles "Miss me Petals?"

He moves the plastic bag of Chinese food to his left hand so he can hug you back, his right hand fitting comfortably over the small of your back to hold you tighter against him.

You could remember the first time you hugged him, when all he did was stand there with his hands at his sides awkwardly while you held on to him as tight as you could. This was better. Ben's embrace is warm and strong, unyielding, but full of the love that he’d had such a hard time admitting.

"Yes." You squeeze him hard, smiling into his jacket that's flecked with melting snow, cold against your skin, but the warmth of his body soaks through the chill and into you. You sigh, nuzzling further into him. "I was worried-"

"Why?" Ben's voice rumbles through his chest, against your cheek.

"Because you weren't home yet." You pull back to stare up at him. His brilliant green eyes catch in the multicolored strands of Christmas lights, strung through your apartment. There's snow caught in his dark hair, turning to water and dripping down into his face in the warmth of the apartment.

Ben frowns. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. You're here now." You smile arching up to kiss him. Ben groans into your mouth, his grip on you tightening as he deepens the kiss, pressing the hand on the small of your back just a little more to secure you against his chest.

You sigh softly, content in living in this moment with him for another few precious seconds. The heat of his body transferring into you the longer you stand pressed against him, soaking through your sweatpants and chunky sweater in the best way.

You'd never felt this way about anyone in the past. There hadn't been another boyfriend who'd treated you the way Ben did, no other boyfriend who'd cared about the little things, and no other boyfriend who you were so in love with. Even your first love so long ago faded into the background, the one you thought you'd never get over, and all that was left was Ben.

You're too excited about giving Ben his gift to eat. You sit cross-legged on the plush gray couch so close to him that your knees are touching the outside of his thigh as Ben places the boxes of food onto your coffee table. The anxious energy tingling in the pit of your stomach and buzzing in your chest so much that it's difficult to sit still.

And before Ben can give you your chopsticks, you thrust the lumpy wrapped package onto his lap with a wide smile.

"You first!" You say.

Ben shakes his head. "It should be ladies first."

“I’m not a lady Ben. We both know that-“

“Sorry sweetheart that’s the way it goes.”

“Don't be so old fashioned Gramps. It's 2024.” You roll your eyes at him, laughing at the cute frown that pulls at his lips when you use the nickname. Ben never liked it, but when you'd first met, Ben hadn't told you his real name, and you'd assigned him the nickname and it had stuck when you realized how much it annoyed him.

That was when he did everything in his power to annoy you as well, so it seemed like a good fit.

In all honesty, you didn't hate how old fashioned Ben was, if anything it was a relief, a reprieve from the way the modern boys treated women. It was nice to finally be with a man who actually gave a shit about you and cared what you wanted.

"And I really want you to open yours first." You plead as you lean towards him. "Oh, and this goes with it."

You reach down behind the couch to grab the small golden barrel cactus, avoiding the sharp yellow spines, and place it on the minimal space left on the coffee table. You'd crocheted a dark green sleeve to go around the terra cotta pot.

"You got me a cactus?" Ben snorts.

"I mean, I have so many plants in here and I thought that you'd want one that was yours. Plus, you'll never have to water it." You gesture with one hand to the numerous plants around the room, the ones bathed in the multicolored lights from the Christmas Tree, the ones with bright green leaves that unfurled towards the light, the others with hanging vines that trailed to the ground so thick that you couldn't remember the color of the wall, the apple tree with ripe red fruit, and the numerous herbs in the garden box that hung over your kitchen sink. "And I gave it a sweater."

"Why did you give it a sweater?"

"It’s used to a warm climate and because I had some yarn left over."

"From?"

"You're just going to have to open your gift and find out." You shrug, but can barely contain your excitement.

Ben shakes his head at you, but a smile twitches on the corner of his lips. You knew that your boyfriend loved you because you were different than anyone he'd ever met, and you reveled in that. You liked that even though Ben was older than you,  that no matter how many other experiences he'd had in his life,  you were a first for him just as Ben was a first for you.

He rips through the paper carefully, trying hard not to ruin what was inside, the sound of crinkling and tearing blocking out the Christmas playlist for a moment that you'd put on before Ben had come home, but you can hear the ABBA song clear as day.

For a moment he stares down at the gift not quite comprehending what the lumpy mass in his lap is, but then he picks it up.

It had taken a month for you to pick out the perfect dark green yarn that was soft but not too soft, green but not too green, and another two months for you to finish it when Ben wasn't home, but you were proud of the sweater that you'd made your boyfriend.

He stares at it for another few beats, holding it up to the light, and it makes you worry that maybe you should have bought him something at the mall instead.

"You made me a sweater?" He asks, there's something on the edge of his voice that you can't place, some traces of emotion that you're not able to identify.

"Yeah. I wanted to make you something." You clear your throat, worried. "I mean- you don't have any and I know that you keep saying you run a little warm, but I figured we're going to Illinois for Christmas and it might be cold."

Ben doesn't say anything and you start to feel the self-doubt come roaring in.

Why did I make him a sweater? I should have bought him some cologne or something.

"And you complained when Butcher sent you on that mission to Alaska last month and I just thought that-“ You press your lips into a tight line, shoulders drooping. “If you don't like it I can keep it for me-" You fumble, but before you can finish, Ben yanks you into his lap.

His hands cup your cheeks as he kisses you so fiercely that it wipes any doubts from your mind. You make a surprised sound in the back of your throat, but sink into the kiss.  “Don’t you fucking dare.” Ben mutters against your lips.

Your blush burns against your face. “You like it?”

He nods. “ No one’s ever made me anything before.” His voice comes out a little bit gruff, as if he’s embarrassed to admit it, but it makes you smile.

“I figured and I wanted to change that.” Your fingertips dance over his forehead, brushing away the hair that’s fallen forward before your hand drops to cup his cheek, feeling the scratch of his beard against the palm of your hand. “But you’re sure you like it?”

Ben kisses you again, his large hands settling on your hips with an encouraging squeeze. “I do.”

“Good. Merry Christmas.” You wrap your arms around the back of his neck to hug him for a minute, sinking into his embrace with a happy smile.

"Merry Christmas doll." Ben murmurs into your hair, affection lacing his words.

Again, you send a mental thank you to your grandmother for understanding that Ben and you needed a day to be together and celebrate the way you wanted to before coming to stay. Not that you didn't like the Christmas Eve party or the Christmas day party, but you wanted to give Ben this. You noticed that Ben still had a hard time being in places with a lot of people when the PTSD came roaring back, and you wanted to show him what Christmas meant to you and hopefully show what Christmas would look like between the two of you as long as you were together.

“Sweetheart you gotta open yours now.” Ben’s voice rumbles, the warmth of his breath on your ear. It makes a pleasurable shiver thrill skate down your spine when you think of all the other times the two of you have been this close.

“It’s okay I can wait.” You hum into his throat, content, but Ben won't give in.

He pushes you back gently from his chest shaking his head. “Too bad. It's your turn."

"Fine." You start to move back to the space beside him, but Ben's hands catch on your hips to stop you.

"I didn't say I wanted you to move did I?" His smile turns more smirk.

"I-"

"How many times do I have to tell you that I like having you on top of me?" Ben purrs, kissing under your jaw, his beard scratching in a way that makes your throat tight.

"Keep doing that and the only thing I'm going to unwrap is you." You sigh in a half-moan, fingers curling into the hair at the base of his neck.

"After." Ben leans back to reach into his coat pocket and pulls out a small black velvet box that fits in the palm of your hand.

You hesitate to open it.

It wasn't that you didn't want jewelry for Christmas, it was that Ben and you had done this song and dance before after he tried to make you wear a diamond and emerald necklace with jewels bigger than your index, middle, and third finger put together. The whole time you wore it the only thing you could think about is how many groceries you could have bought with the necklace, how much you were afraid that it was going to break, and how much you feared that you were going to lose it or someone was going to try and steal it.

Maybe that was ridiculous, but extravagant gifts never appealed to you. You liked gifts that meant something, gifts that were heartfelt and thoughtful, gifts like the bookshelf Ben had gotten you months ago before you were dating because he noticed you needed one. Not to mention you loved just spending time with Ben. If he hadn't gotten you anything you would have been content with just sitting with him on the couch and watching a Christmas movie.

But you smile, because you don't want to hurt his feelings and because it's his first Christmas in forty years and you wanted it to be special.

It's Christmas and I will be thankful and happy with whatever he got me, because Ben was thinking of me when he bought it.

You think to yourself as you open the box.

The first thing you notice is that the box isn't as new as you thought, the inside of the lid is printed in ancient script that's a little faded, worn against the aged white silk that lines it. Your eyes drift to the piece of jewelry nestled on the pillow. It's a silver locket, hexagon shaped, and about the size of your thumb. The face is printed with weaving ivy leaves and roses that reach to a simple plain border.

Simple, stately, and completely you.

Ben is uncharacteristically quiet, but he breaks the silence first. "Do you-" He clears his throat, "Do you like it?"

He asks it hesitantly, as if he's afraid to hear your answer. It was unusual for Ben to look so nervous.

You can only nod, any words you had stuck in the back of your throat. Your fingernail finds the seam between the two pieces of metal and you gently unlatch the locket to see the picture inside. There's a piece of glass protecting a yellowed photo of a little boy who looks no more than five standing in a small black suit. You didn't think that they made suits for kids that small. He's smiling and one of his teeth are missing, but he looks oddly familiar.

"Who is this?" You ask. The more you look at the photo the more you think that you've seen him before.

"It's me." He says it quiet, almost a whisper.

"You? But-"

"It was my mother's." He clarifies and you inhale sharply in surprise.

"Really?"

He nods once, looking uncomfortable. By now you knew that moments like this usually made your boyfriend uncomfortable no matter how many times that you'd told him that he didn't have to be uncomfortable about being vulnerable. He was getting a little better, slowly, very slowly.

"Oh Ben I don't know if I should-" You shake your head, afraid to touch something so old.

Ben didn't often speak about his mother, but when he did, it was always reverent and respectful. You could see in his eyes how much he had loved her and how much he had cared about her. His father, Ben also didn't like talking about, but Ben never spoke of his father with the kindness that he'd spoke about his mother.

And you didn't want to take something like this away from him, something that meant so much to him, because of how much he loved his mother.

"No. I-" He clears his throat and Ben's hand tightens on your waist. "I want you to have it."

"But-" You stutter.

"What else am I going to do with it Petals? Can't exactly wear it myself." Ben chuckles, but the humor doesn't quite reach his eyes.

“Yeah, but it’s your mom’s and I-“ You trail off still looking at the photo of Ben as a little boy. He had the same mischievous twinkle in his eyes that you loved, the same unruly dark hair, but there was something different about him. He looked happier. It was the same look that Ben had when it was just the two of you together, the happiness that you wanted Ben to feel the rest of his life when he understood what it was like to be loved and cherished.

And it made you understand that the last time Ben must have felt loved and cherished was when his mother was still alive. It broke your heart to know that Ben had lived all these years without her and missed that in his life.

The locket was beautiful and the fact that Ben remembered what you said about liking gifts that “meant something” made your heart flutter.

Because this meant something. Ben taking the time to go through his mother’s jewelry and pick something out just for you that was special to him that he wanted to share with you, meant more than the emerald and diamond necklace he had tried to give you months ago.

There were tears burning behind your eyes the more you look at the photo of the little boy.

Ben is watching you. “Well-“ He shrugs. “I'm an only child. Which means I don't have any siblings who have wives to fight over this stuff so, I figured that if anyone was going to get it, it should be you. If you don't take it, it'll sit in that fucking storage unit. Seems like a shame."

You don't answer.

"And-" He hesitates, "I think my mom would have wanted you to have it. Hell, she might have given it to you, if I'd brought you home to meet her."

Your cheeks flush.

Ben studies you for another minute, before you watch his smile twitch into a frown. "Fuck, I knew I shouldn't have gotten you jewelry.  Annie said that you liked jewelry, but I told her you didn't and now the bitch is probably having a good laugh with that pussy of a boyfriend! Forget about it sweetheart, I'll go get you something else right now-" Ben tries to take the box from you, but you swat his hand away.

“Don't you fucking dare!” You shout, using the same words that he said to you when you tried to take his sweater away.

"But you don't like it-"

"I do!  And knowing how much this means to you, makes it better."

"Really?"

You nod, a wide smile wiping away any uncertainty in his gaze. "Will you help me put it on?"

"Sure." Ben says gruffly. His voice has lowered a little, and you know that it's a mixture of pride and love mingling in the tone. It made something break open deep inside and flood your ribcage with love.

You turn your neck to the side, pulling your hair away from the skin as Ben hooks the chain together at the nape of your neck.  The cool metal of the necklace against your skin and the weight are unfamiliar, but you already knew that you wouldn’t be taking it off anytime soon. "It's perfect!" You pull Ben in for a kiss, threading your fingers into his dark hair.

Ben smiles into your mouth, holding you tight against him as if he never wants to let you go and you don't want him to.

It was odd to think that you'd only been together for four months, but you couldn't imagine your life without him. It seemed ridiculous for you to think that Ben was it after such a short time, but he was. You'd never rushed into anything in your entire life, but then Ben was there shattering every expectation that you had, enough to make you throw your inhibitions to the wind and jump feet first into the unknown if it meant he was with you.

The kiss is softer than the one the two of you shared at your front door, filled with more emotion than Ben usually let the world see, but he was opening up bit by bit, learning that you wouldn't judge him for that and it made you feel sky high.

This was the relationship you'd always wanted, and you never thought that you'd have it with Ben, but now that you were here you wouldn't change a thing, because it wouldn’t have put you in his arms.

"You can change the picture." Ben murmurs into your lips.

"No way. I don't have any kid photos of you. And I'm pretty sure you'll see all of mine this week.”

“I bet you were cute.” Ben smiles, raising one of the hands from your hip to push your hair from your face. “Hard to imagine you being any other way sweetheart.” 

"Debatable." You sigh, nipping at his bottom lip in a way that makes Ben pull you back to him.

And when the kiss turns hungry, with you gripping his hair so tight you'd be sure that it would hurt anyone else, and with his fingers pushing up the bottom of your t-shirt to feel the warmth of your skin against his hands and find the dips and curves of your body that make you moan into his mouth, you can't help but think that this is the best Christmas you'd ever had.

"I do think it's later sweetheart." Ben's eyes shine with mischief, mouth pulling into the familiar smirk that makes your knees weak.

"Good. Because I have one other gift for you." You moan as Ben's mouth trails down to your jaw, his beard prickling against the sensitive skin, in a way that drives you mad.

"It's not another plant is it?" He bites just under your jaw and you tighten your hands in his hair, gasping softly.  "Fuck, I love those sounds you make baby." Ben murmurs.

"No." You've lost all ability to form sentences, not when he's so perfectly warm and the trail of his hands working up your abdomen consumes you.

"Give it to me later." Ben's eyes flash a startling green. "I want to unwrap my favorite gift right now."

"Keep going the way you are, and you're gonna find it."

Ben hesitates, before he raises his hand to feel the end of the brand new lingerie that you'd bought special for tonight, his eyes darkening with the realization. "Well then, Merry Christmas to me."

Ben's mouth falls against yours, but before he goes further, he pulls back just for a moment, his hand coming up to gently cup your cheek. Your eyes widen in surprise.

"Ben?" You question. 

"Merry Christmas Petals." He whispers, dragging his thumb over your cheek, and nudges his nose against yours in a gesture that warms your heart. He didn’t do things like that often, but whenever he did it always stood out to you, because it added on another layer to the man you loved with all your heart.

"Merry Christmas Ben."

A/N: I thought that they deserved a little Christmas fluff. I'm hoping that I have time to drop a follow up to this before Christmas, because I kinda want to write what happens when they go back to Illinois, but we'll see what happens! ❤️

As always thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, Likes, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! I love hearing what y'all think 🥰

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[seoktized]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 — k.jw

jiwoong was sure he didn’t want another child until he saw you playing with your niece and suddenly.. all those worries he had were out the window.

genre: smut. mdni!

warnings: older!jiwoong, breeding kink maybe?, mating press, daddy kink. unprotected p in v sex, creampie, lmk if i missed anything!!

pairing: dilf!jiwoong (late 40s) x afab!reader (early/mid 20s)

word count: 1.9k

kinnie’s note: first installment of the dilf!zb1 series!! had to start off jiwoong hehe. i hope you all enjoy, and if you have any ideas for the other members, send them in my ask box!!

jiwoong was never fond of the idea of having another child with the fact that he was a lot older than he was when he had his first born. no amount of convincing could make him think otherwise; jiwoong was adamant about his decision.

being in his late forties, he figured he was past the baby days, instead wanting to focus on his career and his personal life which now included you.

his previous marriage had left him shattered and at that time he vowed to not let himself get too deep into any relationship again. but then he met you and all of that changed. you were the light of his life. you’d brought back happiness he thought he’d never experience again.

something deep down inside him felt bad because he knew you were much younger, wanting nothing more than to start a family and settle down with him as you were just stepping into adulthood. you hadn’t had the experiences he had.

but something about the whole thing unnerved him. the thought of those sleepless nights, the sound of crying ringing in his ears, and endless diapers had his decision set in stone: he was not going to have another child.

that was until he saw you playing with your niece at a family party.

he watches quietly from the porch as you chase her around, her little giggles ringing through the air as you lift her up, spinning her around. a soft smile plays on his lips, watching you do what you’ve always dreamed of.

for the first time in a while, jiwoong let his fears go and allowed himself to imagine what it’d be like to start a family with you, that same smile on your face as you held your newborn. the sight of you mothering another child made his heart flutter, wanting nothing more than to give you what you wanted.

the sound of your voice pulls him from his thoughts, looking up he sees you carrying your niece, who was rubbing her eyes tiredly. you say something about bringing her inside and jiwoong nods, letting you brush past him.

you return shortly, sitting down beside jiwoong on the stairs. you look over to him, noticing that he was in deep thought about something.

“you know,” he starts, his voice barely above a whisper, “i’ve been thinking,”

your eyes scanned his expression, sensing a shift in his demeanor, “yea? about what?”

jiwoong sighs, reaching out to grasp your hand, “i’ve been too.. stubborn. shutting you down everytime you mentioned having a family and.. i’m sorry.”

you shake your head, “jiwoong, i don’t want you to feel like you have to start a family with me.” squeezing his hand gently, you lean closer, resting your head on his shoulder. “you don’t have to do anything you don’t feel comfortable with.”

his eyes flicker down towards you before he returns his gaze to the yard in front of him. he swallows heavily, “i want to start a family with you. i was wrong to not consider it. consider how happy it’d make you.” jiwoong leans down, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before he adds, “how happy it’d make us.”

his hand squeezes yours back, a content sigh escaping his lips. his thoughts go back to you holding your niece in your arms for a moment, ultimately sealing the deal for him. he wanted to start a family with you. he wanted to see that same smile on your face as you and your child greet him at the door.

“if you really want this.. i want to be sure that i can be the father and provider you and our child deserve.” jiwoong says, a bit of uncertainty still laced in his voice.

you sit up, cupping his cheeks gently, “you will, jiwoong. you’ll be the best dad to our baby.”

jiwoong leans into your touch, the warmths of your hands making his doubts fade into the background. he knew the journey would be hard, but that didn’t matter because he had you. and frankly that was all he needed.

jiwoong smiles, pulling you into a warm embrace, “can’t believe you wanna start a family with an old man,”

you pull away, looking at him with your jaw dropped, “shut up, you’re not old!” your hand slaps his chest gently as his laugh fills the air, warm and easy.

he pulls you back into his arms, his voice soft but still teasing, “i am! my knees creak with every move. i know you hear me groaning every morning.”

“i guess.. but everything else is still perfect. i love my old man,” you say, sliding your hand into his and intertwining your fingers.

jiwoong presses a kiss to your forehead, his finger going under your chin to lift your head. “i love you too. guess i’ve been all worried for nothing, huh?”

you nod, “you’ll be great, jiwoong. you already are and you always will be.”

jiwoong’s pulse quickens at your words, a wide smile present across his face as he realizes he’s ready for the future, as long as it’s with you. “if you’re sure about this, then lets do it, baby. let’s start our family.”

you return the smile, sealing the promise with a sweet kiss to his lips.

the car ride home was quiet other than the soft hum of christmas music playing on the radio. you glance over to jiwoong, a smile playing on your face as you study the face of your lover. the one who you wanted to be with forever.

“i can’t wait to spoil you rotten while you’re pregnant,” jiwoong suddenly says, taking his eyes off the road for a second to look at you. one hand leaves the steering wheel and moves to gently squeeze your thigh.

a giggle leaves your lips at his words, “you already do that, love,” you place a hand over the one on your thigh, returning the squeeze

his expression softens as he brings your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

his hand is back on your lower thigh, slowly inching towards your heat. his eyes stay on the road as he slips his hand under your skirt, lightly tracing his fingers over your cunt as you shudder under his touch. out of the corner of your eye, you see him smirk as his fingers press against your damp panties.

“princess needs me, hm?” he rumbles, his voice thick with desire. you whimper in response, a small yes escaping your lips.

jiwoong pulls into the driveway and quickly puts the car in park before he leans over the console, pulling you into a rough, desperate kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth as he claims you entirely.

he pulls away, pressing his forehead to yours, “c’mon, baby, let’s get inside and i’ll give you what you want.” he pants against your lips before getting out and opening your door for you. jiwoong takes your hand and leads you towards the house, eager to get you inside.

once your through the door, jiwoong’s hands are back on you, peeling your jacket off and throwing it to the side. his lips are back on yours as he pulls you closer, his hands snaking under your shirt. jiwoong pulls away, taking your hand and lets you lead him to the bedroom.

he walks you backwards, letting you fall back on the bed with a small thud before he climbs over you, hooking his arms on the underside of your leg to pull you closer. his eyes rake over your body as you lay under him, your lips wet and swollen and your pupils blown as you wait for him.

“so fucking beautiful,” he groans, moving off the bed to remove his pants. jiwoong leans forward, pulling you to the edge of the bed, pressing his bulge against your clothed heat. he grinds against you, wanting nothing more but to see you writhe and whine for him.

“woong, please,” you sigh, reaching down to pull at the waistband of his boxers. a faint smirk appears on his face before he shoves his boxers down, his thick cock springing out.

it was a matter of seconds before your skirt and panties were removed and thrown across the room, your cunt now pressed against his cock as he slides up and down your slick. “so wet.. me getting you pregnant got you like this?” he chuckles, slowly pressing the tip to your hole as you desperately cry out, “yes,” needing to feel him entirely.

jiwoong pushes your legs to your chest before he fully bottoms out, earning a loud moan from you. the position had his cock reaching deeper inside you than ever before. “fuck, princess, you’re so tight,” jiwoong groans, “daddy’s gonna put a baby in this tight little cunt,”

jiwoong starts a rough pace, broken moans of his name falling with every thrust of his hips. the way he rams into you, knocking the breath out of you from the force has you clenching around him tightly, your peak nearing almost too quickly.

"fuck, baby,” he pants, “i'll take such good care of you, princess. keep you comfortable and satisfied. you'll be the perfect little mommy for our baby." the grip he has on your quivering thighs loosens as he leans forward, capturing your lips in a heated kiss.

you moan into the kiss, reaching up to pull at the hair on the nape of his neck. jiwoong’s hand that is now free goes between the two of you, rubbing circles on your clit. “cum for me, princess. wanna feel you squeeze my cock, fuck,”

the feeling of his cock drilling into you while his fingers rub at your clit has your eyes rolling back, pushing you closer and closer to sweet bliss. “daddy, i‘m so close,” you whine, “don’t stop, please,”

jiwoong grunts at your whines, doubling his efforts to get you to the edge. his cock throbs inside of you as almost he fucks you into the mattress, his heavy balls smacking against your ass with every thrust.

with a few more thrusts and nudges to the spot that made you see stars, jiwoong has you over the edge, thighs shaking under him as he continued to thrust into you.

“shit, fuck— that’s it, baby, cum for daddy, gonna knock you up just like you want,” his voice is more desperate and husky as he chases his own orgasm.

jiwoong stays true to his word, pressing himself flush against your body as his cock pulsates inside of you, thick ropes of cum painting your insides. “take it all, such a good girl,” he groans, rolling his hips a few times to make sure you take every last drop.

you whimper as jiwoong slides his softening cock out of your cunt, collapsing beside you on the bed. “thank you for changing your mind, woongie.” you sigh, reaching over to take his hand in yours.

jiwoong turns his head, a smile on his face as he looks at you, “of course, my love.”

as he looks at you, jiwoong sees the future with you all round with his baby and that glow every new mother gets. jiwoong mentally curses himself for being so stubborn with his previous decision, seeing how the thought of being a mother made you so happy.

the thought of starting over did scare him a bit, but as he watches you now, all that fear went away once he saw that same smile of yours that he fell in love with. his heart softens as he looks at you, realizing how deep he really loved you. at this moment, jiwoong knew he wouldn’t want it any other way, he wanted you, and the family you two would make together.

reblogs + feedback is greatly appreciated ♡

tags - @senazzzz @woongiez @taylorluvation

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[212-apricity]

siren songs and stolen kisses, the runaway

ssask masterlist main masterlist

again guys, im really sorry if this ones a bit shit, i really didnt know what to write for this but i tried my best, hopefully the next ones a bit better💖🙏🗣️‼️

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

The humid air hung heavy over the yard of the Chateau as the four of us sat around, waiting for something—anything—to happen. Kiara and Pope were testing the winch to pull up the gold, Kiara carefully being lowered to test its strength, while JJ lounged on the side of the hot tub. I leaned against the Twinkie, arms crossed as I watched them, my mind racing with a thousand thoughts, none of them good.

"What do you think he’s up to?" Kiara called up, her voice breaking the relative silence.

"John B pulling a Houdini," JJ replied, his tone casual as he smirked.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at him. "Disappearing without a word and causing us all to stress? Sounds about right."

JJ turned to me, his grin widening. "Well, Princess, you’d know best. Houdini’s probably got nothing on you Cameron kids."

I shot him a mock glare, but my lips twitched in betrayal. JJ always had a way of making me smile, no matter how dire the situation felt. His hair glinted gold in the late afternoon sun, and his confidence was almost contagious. Before I could retort, John B appeared from nowhere, trudging into the Chateau without so much as a glance in our direction.

"What the…?" Kiara said, looking up in confusion as the winch brought her back to ground level.

"John B! Where have you been?" Pope shouted, jogging to follow him. JJ and I exchanged looks before we trailed behind, my stomach sinking at the determined yet furious look in John B’s eyes. Something was seriously wrong.

Inside the Chateau, John B began tearing through the place, smashing things as he searched for something. I winced as a glass shattered under his foot.

"Dude, what are you doing?" JJ asked, his voice tinged with both concern and irritation. His hands rested on his hips as he tried to make sense of the chaos unfolding before us.

John B didn’t answer, ignoring everyone as he stormed into the guest room which had been for years JJ’s (and now my) room at the Chateau. My heart dropped as he reached under JJ’s pillow and pulled out the gun.

"Whoa, whoa, John B, what the hell?" JJ moved forward, his hands raised in a calming gesture, but John B shoved him hard onto the bed. JJ’s hat fell off as he tumbled backward, and I instinctively ran to his side, helping him up.

"Are you okay?" I whispered, gripping his bicep tightly as he shook his head in disbelief. I could see the anger rising in him, his jaw tightening.

"I’m fine, baby," he muttered, brushing himself off. But his eyes stayed locked on John B, who was now storming toward the door. Pope tried to block him, but John B shoved him aside with surprising force, sending him into a table. Kiara rushed to help Pope up, and JJ grabbed my hand as we followed John B outside.

"Where are you going John B? What is going on?" I called out. John B didn’t answer until he reached JJ’s bike, turning to face us all with fire in his eyes.

"Ward knows about the gold," he spat, his voice trembling with rage.

The words hit me like a punch to the stomach, but it was what he said next that left me frozen in place.

"He killed my dad."

Silence fell over the yard. The weight of his words suffocated me, my brain struggling to process. Ward… my dad? JJ’s grip on my hand tightened as John B sped off on the bike, his anger trailing behind him like a storm. The others started running after him, but I couldn’t move, my feet rooted to the ground.

"Y/n, baby," JJ’s voice brought me back, his arms wrapping around me as I trembled. "It’s okay. It’s okay, I’ve got you."

"Dad… he wouldn’t. He couldn’t," I stammered, but my voice betrayed my uncertainty. JJ didn’t say anything, just held me tighter as Pope and Kiara came back, panting and confused.

"What the hell just happened?" Pope asked, running a hand over his face.

"We need to find him," Kiara said, her tone firm despite the chaos.

Inside the Chateau, we gathered around to brainstorm. Every possible location John B might go was thrown out and dismissed until one option stuck—Tannyhill. My family’s estate.

"Y/n…" he started, but I cut him off, shaking my head.

"Let’s just go," I said firmly, ignoring the way my stomach churned.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

We took the HMS Pogue and sailed toward Tannyhill under the cover of night. The moonlit water reflected our shared anxiety. JJ tried to lighten the mood with a sarcastic suggestion about knocking on the front door and asking for John B, but even his humor felt strained.

"Yeah, that’ll work great," I said dryly, earning a smile from him. He reached out to touch my shoulder briefly before turning his attention back to the shoreline.

Pope peered through binoculars, spotting movement at Tannyhill. "Hey, I see Ward," he said, his voice heavy with implications. He passed the binoculars to me, and I froze, my chest tightening as I saw my father alive and well.

"Doesn’t look dead to me," Pope muttered, packing up. "Let’s go home."

"Wait," JJ interjected, his jaw clenched.

"What?" Kiara snapped. Pope looked at her incredulously.

"We can’t just leave John B," I argued, but the tension between Kiara and Pope reached a boiling point.

"Hey, I have the biggest interview of my life in six hours," Pope said, his voice rising.

"And our friend is in trouble," Kiara shot back, her tone cutting.

Pope threw up his hands. "Why is it always about John B?"

"It’s not," Kiara retorted. "It would be any of you in this situation."

"Oh, bullshit!" Pope yelled, frustration clear in his voice.

"This is about friendship!" Kiara shouted, stepping closer.

"Stop with the moral high ground shit, Kiara!" Pope countered, his voice sharp.

"Hey!" JJ yelled, pulling me closer as the shouting got louder. "Guys, not now!"

Kiara turned away, muttering angrily. Pope’s voice softened but stayed firm. "This is my life. Everything I’ve worked for."

Kiara scoffed, her frustration evident. "That’s your priority?"

JJ and I stood together at the back of the boat, the fight between Kiara and Pope escalating before us. His hand never left mine, his thumb tracing soothing circles over my knuckles, but the tension between them was impossible to ignore.

"Yes, Kiara, yes it is! Look, you weren’t there for John B! You weren’t there for any of us!" Pope shouted, his voice cracking with the strain of his emotions. He glared at Kiara, who was visibly holding back tears. “Y/n basically left her family when she found us seven years ago. But remember your kook year, Kiara?”

“Pope, stop,” I interjected softly, but my words barely reached him through his anger.

Kiara looked to the sky, swallowing hard and shoving Pope away “Give me a break.”

“Hey!” Pope shouted back. “You need a break? Move!” He shoved her, frustration boiling over, and Kiara retaliated with equal force, pushing him right back as they both kept shouting at one another.

JJ stepped forward immediately, yanking Pope back with one arm. “Hey, yo, yo, yo! Cut it out, alright?” he snapped, his voice rough and commanding. “This isn’t the time for this shit!”

I caught Kiara’s arm as she stepped forward again, her jaw set in defiance. “Kiara, stop,” I said firmly, my grip tightening. She froze under my touch, looking between me and JJ as if trying to decide whether to keep fighting or let it go.

“Listen,” JJ said, his tone sharper now. “If Y/n and I are the ones mediating, we’ve hit rock bottom.”

Pope glared but bit back whatever retort was on his tongue. JJ jabbed a finger toward the bow of the boat. “Bow. Now. Go.”

Pope finally stepped back, muttering under his breath, and I gently guided Kiara to sit down. My hands were shaking slightly, my nerves frayed, but JJ’s presence at my side kept me grounded.

JJ leaned over to me, his voice low and soft. “You okay, Princess?” His hand brushed my hair back from my face.

I nodded, exhaling slowly. “Yeah… I will be.”

He smiled faintly, his blue eyes searching mine. “You’re stronger than you think, baby.”

I felt a pang of gratitude for him, for always knowing what to say when the world felt like it was falling apart. As the tension on the boat lingered, Pope eventually started the engine, and we sailed toward his house in silence.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

We dropped Pope off first, his parting words curt and strained, then Kiara insisted on walking home. I offered to drop her off instead, but she waved me off, clearly needing space to cool down.

That left just JJ and me on the water, the gentle rocking of the boat and the hum of the engine filling the quiet. The stars above seemed to mock the chaos of the night, shining as though nothing had happened. Wind gusted around us as JJ sailed and I pulled the sleeves of JJ’s my grey sweater that he was wearing earlier.

“What about you, Princess?” JJ asked after a while, his tone teasing but tentative. “Want me to drop you off too?”

I gave him a side-eye glare, though a small smile tugged at my lips. “Not funny, J.”

He raised one hand hand in surrender, the other on the steering wheel, “Too soon?”

“Just a little.” I squinted, holding my thumb and forefinger close together, and he mirrored the gesture, mock-serious.

“Okay, okay, noted,” he said, his grin breaking through. “You’re stuck with me then.”

I sighed dramatically, walking up behind him and wrapping my arms around his torso. “Guess I’ve survived worse.”

JJ chuckled, his laughter low and soothing, and he reached back to pull me closer. “Of course you have. You’re a Cameron, remember? Toughest princess in the game.”

I rolled my eyes, pressing my forehead against his back. “Thanks for earlier… for everything.”

JJ turned to face me, his hands resting on my shoulders. “Always, baby. You don’t have to thank me for taking care of you.” His lips pressed to my forehead, lingering there as if to seal the promise.

I tilted my face up, our eyes locking, and in a moment of unspoken understanding, he kissed me. His lips were soft and warm, and my hand slid under his shirt, feeling the heat of his skin as I tangled my other hand in his hair.

When we broke apart, he rested his forehead against mine, his breathing uneven. “We’ll figure it out, Princess.”

I nodded, my hands still clinging to him.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

The salty breeze carried the faint sound of waves lapping against the dock, a soothing rhythm that contrasted sharply with the restlessness in the air. We were sprawled across the wooden planks of the Chateau’s dock, the sun casting its last golden rays over the marsh. JJ’s arm was slung lazily over his knee, the cigarette dangling between his fingers as he exhaled a puff of smoke.

“Princess,” JJ drawled, his blue eyes sparkling with that mischievous glint I’d come to love. “You’re real good at this,”

I raised a brow, pretending to be unimpressed, though a small smirk tugged at my lips. Taking the cigarette from his hand, I exhaled a plume of smoke that disappeared into the sunset. “Didn’t think the great JJ Maybank could admit someone else is better at something.”

“Better? Who said anything about better?” JJ shot back, leaning in closer until our noses nearly touched. His voice dropped to a teasing murmur. “I’m just saying you’re good, baby. Real good.” I smirked before blowing the puff of smoke I was holding into his face, making him move away in surprise, almost falling off his seat on the wooden plank.

“Ugh get a room, you two,” John B muttered from a few feet away, his tone edged with annoyance as he fiddled with the edge of his cast.

“Or at least let the rest of us enjoy the view without your PDA,” Kiara chimed in, sitting cross-legged with an exasperated look.

I laughed, leaning back against JJ’s shoulder as he pressed a quick kiss to my temple. “You’re just jealous,” I teased, my voice light as I handed the blunt back to JJ.

Kiara groaned, while John B rolled his eyes and continued picking at his cast.

“John B, seriously,” I said, straightening up as my tone turned more serious. “Stop messing with that thing. You’re going to make it worse.”

“It’s fine,” he replied dismissively, the stubborn set of his jaw making it clear he wasn’t going to listen. “It’s just a hairline fracture.”

“It’s a fracture and a cast, dumbass,” Kiara cut in, her voice sharper now. “You’re supposed to keep it on. And you’re supposed to care about your body,”

John B groaned, clearly irritated. “I can’t do anything with it on!” he snapped.

“Maybe if you stopped breaking things—” Kiara shot back, and just like that, the two of them were bickering again, their voices rising in frustration.

Their argument brewed quickly, Kiara’s frustrations bubbling over as John B tried to defend his recklessness. JJ and I exchanged a knowing look, his smirk widening as he shook his head.

"Think they’ll ever stop?" I asked, keeping my voice low.

"Not a chance," JJ replied, handing me the cigarette. "But hey, I’ve got front-row seats, and the company ain’t bad."

I rolled my eyes, my lips twitching with amusement. The comfort between us felt easy, like we were in our own bubble while the world around us spiraled.

The argument (unfortunately) was cut short by the sound of footsteps pounding toward us. We all turned to see Pope charging down the path, his shirt soaked with sweat and his breathing ragged.

“Pope?” I called out, concern lacing my voice as I stood up. “What’s wrong?”

He bent over, hands on his knees, as he struggled to catch his breath. “I—” he gasped, raising a finger to stall us. “I ran… all the way here.”

JJ leaned back on his elbows, his expression calm despite the urgency in Pope’s demeanor. “How was the interview, dude?” he asked casually.

“Don’t… ask,” Pope managed to say, waving JJ off as he straightened up.

JJ grinned, clearly enjoying Pope’s frustration. “Noted.”

Pope’s face shifted into something more serious, and he looked between us with wide, urgent eyes. “Listen, we don’t have much time,” he said, his voice firm now. “Before the interview, my dad told me he had to clear the private airstrip to cut palms for Cameron’s plane. Said it was too heavy and needed a longer runway to take off.”

I froze at the mention of my father’s name, my stomach tightening. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Pope continued, ignoring my question. “While I was sitting there in the interview, I couldn’t stop thinking—hm, why would Ward need a longer airstrip?”

We all fell silent, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. Slowly, realization dawned on us.

“Gold,” JJ said, breaking the silence. His voice was calm, but his eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and determination.

Pope pointed at him, practically shouting. “Yes! Exactly! The gold. This is it—this is our chance to get it back!”

My heart was racing now, a mix of adrenaline and dread coursing through me. Ward had the gold. Of course he did. But if Pope was right, that also meant we had a chance to take it from him.

Kiara shot to her feet, her face set with resolve. “We have to go.”

JJ stood too, pulling me up with him. “Alright, Captain,” he said, turning to John B with a grin. “What’s the plan?”

John B looked around at all of us, his determination shining through his frustration. “We’re gonna steal our shit back.”

The energy shifted instantly. We moved as one, pulling together in a way that only the Pogues could. Kiara grabbed my hand as we started running toward the Chateau to gather supplies, John B, Pope and JJ’s laughter trailing behind us.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

The Twinkie rumbled along the bumpy dirt road as we approached the airstrip. Pope held the binoculars, scanning the scene. "They’re loading up the gold," he said, his voice hushed but urgent.

John B leaned forward, snatching the binoculars from him. "There’s Ward," he muttered, his jaw tightening.

The familiar pang hit me square in the chest at the mention of my father. "Let me see," I said, taking the binoculars.

Through the lenses, I spotted Ward, his commanding presence impossible to miss as he barked orders near the plane. But then my breath caught. "Sarah," I whispered, my voice trembling.

"What?" John B and JJ turned to me, their surprise matching my own.

"She’s with him," I said, my heart sinking as I watched my sister struggle against Ward’s grip. He dragged her toward the plane, his hold rough and unrelenting. Security guards hovered nearby, their stances making it clear she had no escape.

"She’s arguing with him," I said, my voice breaking. My chest tightened as panic threatened to overtake me.

JJ’s hand found mine, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. "Baby," he murmured, his voice soft and steady. He pressed a gentle kiss to my cheek, grounding me in the moment.

"He’s hurting her," John B growled, his anger spilling over. Before anyone could stop him, he was off, sprinting toward the Twinkie.

The air was electric with tension, every one of us frozen as we watched John B and the Twinkie barrel down the dirt path toward the airstrip fence.

“John B! Stop! You’re going to get yourself killed!” Kiara shouted, her voice cracking with desperation.

Pope scrambled forward, waving his arms as if it would somehow make John B see sense. “What the hell is he doing?” Pope’s voice was frantic, and his panic was palpable.

Beside me, JJ cursed under his breath, his grip tightening around my waist as he tried to physically anchor me—and himself—through the chaos. “He’s gonna ram it,” JJ muttered, his tone somewhere between disbelief and reluctant admiration.

“Ram it? He wouldn’t,” I whispered, my voice shaking. But even as I said it, I knew John B well enough to know that he absolutely would.

“John B!” Kiara screamed again as the Twinkie tore through the wired fence, the sound of metal crunching and snapping filling the air.

Pope and Kiara dove out of the way just in time, their bodies hitting the ground hard. I barely had time to process what was happening before JJ yanked me backward, his arm wrapping protectively around me as we stumbled. We fell into the dirt together, JJ shielding me with his body as the Twinkie sped past, kicking up a cloud of dust and debris.

My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might burst out of my chest. “Oh my God,” I breathed, trying to push myself up.

JJ stayed close, his arm still around my waist. “You okay, baby?” he asked, his voice uncharacteristically serious.

I nodded shakily, looking into his wide, worried eyes. “Yeah. Are you?”

“Fine,” he said quickly, helping me to my feet.

We turned back toward the airstrip, watching as the Twinkie screeched to a halt directly in front of the plane. The plane racing at full speed towards him.

“He’s not actually—” Pope started, but he cut himself off, his mouth agape as he watched John B stationary in the path of the oncoming plane.

Kiara’s breath hitched beside me. “He’s going to get himself killed,” she said, her voice breaking. Her hands flew to her face, tears streaming down her cheeks.

I grabbed her hand instinctively, holding tight as I tried to process what was happening. “Kiara, he’ll be okay. He’ll be okay,” I said, my voice trembling.

But even as I said it, I wasn’t sure I believed it. The sight of John B standing there, a lone figure against the massive plane, was almost too much to bear.

Then, the sound of sirens cut through the night.

The flashing red and blue lights appeared on the horizon, growing closer with every passing second.

“Oh no,” Pope groaned, his hands flying to his head. “No, no, no, no, no, I can’t get arrested. My parents will kill me.”

“Your parents?!” Kiara cried, her voice rising in panic. “What about John B? What about Sarah?”

JJ cursed again, louder this time. “I’m on probation,” he said, his voice sharp and full of dread. “I can’t go to jail, guys.”

I looked up at him, seeing the tension in his jaw, the way his hands curled into fists. I knew what it would mean for JJ if he got caught—for him, jail wasn’t just a slap on the wrist. It was juvie on the mainland. Isolation. Months—maybe years—away from all of us. Away from me.

“J,” I said softly, reaching for his hand. He didn’t flinch away, his grip tightening around mine as if it was the only thing keeping him steady.

“Listen, we have to go,” I said firmly, suppressing the ache in my chest and tears in my eyes for John B and Sarah. “We’re no use to them if we’re in jail.”

Pope nodded quickly, already backing away from the sirens. “She’s right. We have to leave. Now.”

Kiara hesitated, her eyes darting between the approaching cops and the airstrip, where John B was still standing his ground. “But—”

“Kiara,” I said, cutting her off. “We’ll figure out how to help them, but we can’t do it if we’re locked up.”

JJ grabbed his hat and gun off the ground, his movements quick and deliberate. “Let’s go,” he said, his voice low and urgent.

I tugged on Kiara’s arm, and finally, she relented, tears still streaming down her face. We ran together, my heart breaking with every step as the sirens grew louder behind us.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

It was past 4 a.m. when we finally collapsed in bed, JJ’s head resting on my chest as he drifted off to sleep. I ran my fingers through his hair absentmindedly, my mind racing.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. I reached for it, my heart sinking when I saw it wasn’t from Sarah or John B. Instead, it was a text from Rafe: "I’m sorry."

I frowned, confusion swirling in my chest. I texted back, "Sorry for what? Are you okay?" but no response came.

Careful not to wake JJ, I slipped out of bed and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

I sat on the porch, the weight of my thoughts growing heavier by the minute. The distant hum of crickets and the faint rustling of leaves were the only sounds accompanying me in the darkness. My phone screen glowed faintly as I stared at Rafe’s message, the single line burning into my brain. "I’m sorry."

I felt like I’d been dropped into some alternate reality where my family and friends were drifting further and further out of reach. My fingers hovered over the screen, scrolling through my unanswered texts to Sarah and John B. They were still aired, and I couldn’t shake the dread curling in my stomach.

My mind wandered back to Rafe. He wasn’t perfect—not even close. But he was still my big brother, the one who used to sneak me chocolates when Rose was on one of her strict “no sugar” kicks. He was the one who held my hair back the first time I drank too much at a Kook party and smuggled me into the house without our parents noticing. Despite everything, Rafe had always been there for me, protective and reckless in equal measure.

The distance between us now stung like salt in an open wound. I thought about telling him about JJ—how happy he made me, how he made the world feel lighter even when it was crumbling. But I could already picture Rafe’s reaction: anger, confusion, maybe even outright fury. JJ and Rafe were like gasoline and a lit match—one wrong move, and it would all explode.

Still, I wanted to tell him. To share this part of my life with the brother I used to trust with everything.

The creak of the screen door behind me snapped me out of my thoughts. I glanced over my shoulder to see JJ standing there, his hair mussed from sleep and his t-shirt hanging slightly off one shoulder. He rubbed at his eyes, squinting at me in the dim light.

“Baby,” he said softly, his voice still thick with sleep. “What are you doin’ out here?”

“J,” I whispered, my chest tightening with guilt. “I’m so sorry. Did I wake you up? You should be asleep.”

He padded over to me, barefoot and rumpled, and dropped down to sit on the step beside me. “You didn’t wake me,” he murmured, laying his head on my shoulder and closing his eyes. “But you’re gonna have to tell me what’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours, or I’m not gonna get any sleep either.”

I sighed, leaning into him and letting his warmth ground me. “It’s Rafe,” I admitted. “He texted me just now—just one message: ‘I’m sorry.’ And I don’t know why, but it’s messing with me.”

JJ was quiet for a moment, his fingers brushing lightly against my arm. “What d’you think he’s sorry for?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice cracking slightly. “We used to be so close, J. He was the one person in my family who I thought really saw me. And now… I don’t even know who he is anymore.”

JJ tilted his head, his blue eyes searching mine as he encouraged me to carry on.

“I wanna share things in my life with him again, I want to skip school and go to the mainland and shop with Ward’s credit card and piss him off with Rafe and Sarah, I wanna tell him about us, J. I know he’s…different now, and I know what his mentality is towards Pogues” I rolled my eyes at the word as JJ smiled softly, “But he’s still my big brother and I just…I don’t know, J, I just want him back. I mean, he’d probably kill you when he’d find out we were together though.”

JJ chuckled, his grin boyish and crooked. “Small price to pay for you, Princess,” he teased, but there was a softness in his voice that made my chest ache.

I swatted his arm lightly, rolling my eyes despite the knot of emotion in my throat. “I’m serious, JJ. He’s… he’s not in a good place right now. I should be there for him but…I don’t know.”

JJ’s smile faded slightly, and he turned serious, his hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Hey,” he said softly. “We’ll figure it out, okay? Rafe might be a mess, but he’s still your brother. He loves you—even if he’s got a shitty way of showing it sometimes.”

I nodded, blinking back the tears threatening to spill over. “I just… I miss him. I miss Sarah, too. And John B. And I hate that I can’t fix any of it.”

JJ pressed a kiss to my temple, his lips lingering there for a moment. “You don’t have to fix everything, baby. You’re not alone in this.”

The weight on my chest eased slightly as I leaned into him, letting his presence steady me. For a while, we just sat there in the quiet, the night wrapping around us like a cocoon.

Eventually, JJ stood, holding out his hand to me. “Come on, Princess. Let’s get you back to bed. I’m not letting you spiral out here all night.”

I let him pull me to my feet, his grip warm and firm. As we headed back inside, I glanced down at my phone one last time, my unanswered texts glowing faintly in the dark.

Tomorrow, I’d figure out what to do about Rafe, about Sarah, about everything. But tonight, I let myself lean on JJ, his steady presence reminding me that even in the chaos, I wasn’t alone.

And for now, that was enough.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔: 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

part eight done!!

im really hungry and i love jj

remember, taglist is open!! feel free to send me a dm or comment on literally anything💞💞

taglist: @harryssideboobz @onelonelybitch @jeyramarie @snowtargaryen @agnxstic

[ciaran]

one second. i want to talk about Jung Heewon and i can't pull quotes rn so it's all vibes it's about the way she IS Dokja's sword! SHE IS HIS SWORD. she loves him she lives for him she is his weapon, the best he has. in a world where Dokja could maybe get Yoo Joonghyuk to do what needs to be done, he understands; he can't rely on Joonghyuk the way he can rely on Heewon. because—she's loyal, to the burning core of her. because she is his, she didn't exist in twos, he made her, he decided the story she would inherit, he raised her up to be his sword and by god. she fucking is. i can't count how many times she throws herself into battle for him, unflinchingly, reliably, beautifully. she's backed by Uriel, one of the strongest constellations in the star stream, and she is first a judge of evil. she is so, so righteous. so determined to protect what needs protecting, punish what needs punishing, and when Eden won't back her she fights anyway. she fights and fights and fights for Kim Dokja and at the same time she resents him so much. how can she not, she is a sword and the hand that wields her keeps throwing her away. the hand that wields her keeps finding other ways to die when—when she's right there. when she could gut what wants him dead or kill him herself. no wonder she's the one who takes his self sacrificing the hardest, because it's like. he's her purpose. he's the hand that guides her. what can she do without him? why won't he just keep her, the way she is meant to be kept, as his strongest sword until the end. and the thing she hates most, because she's a sword, is that she's never thrown away for not being hard enough or sharp enough or quick enough; that she could understand, a sword that isn't good is discarded. but she is never discarded for not being good enough. she's discarded because the hand that wields her has found yet another reason to die and doesn't think about what will happen to the objects under his care when he does that. she resents him. he abandons her. she hates him as only a sword can hate its wielder. and her miracle; that she becomes someone detached from good and evil, becomes a force of pure unfettered righteousness against Dokja's enemies and her companions' enemies and then he goes and abandons her again. not because the fight is over. but because he doesn't care about the duty he owes her, and she does. she keeps waiting for him. she waits for three years and ten years and then decades. the sharpest blade. “that man is the world i wish to save”

[eeblouissant]

in this essay I need to talk about the way Dorothy acts around & reacts to stan in this clip (season 4 ep 5) specifically or I will simply perish.

enjoy the unorganized (unedited, and definitely not reread) chaos, this will be more of a ramble than anything - it’s so late & I need to get these thoughts out of my head before I explode.

Firstly, the clip in question:

( 1:15 - 2:22 )

now. Oh boy. Where do I even begin.

As much as I know it was done for comedic effect; the way Dorothy doesn’t hesitate to let herself cuddle into stan (STAN!!! CUDDLING. with STAN. And **publicly** there are so many layers here) when he puts an arm around her, describing what probably were the happier times Dorothy’s mentioned having with him despite it all (or at least a version of them. his version, that he’d created in an attempt to persuade her, as we learn pretty quickly) - oh god it just breaks my heart. She lets herself feel those memories for just a moment, before it all inevitably comes crashing down again. The way she snaps so quickly… that’s something we do not see in younger Dorothy. Younger Dorothy comes off much more passive-aggressive leaning more on the passive (shy?) side, she’s just very logical & no nonsense (but not in the way she is now). That’s something that Dorothy never really loses - Whereas current Dorothy has lost that (passiveness) completely with stan, and seems find it natural to come off as “aggressive” & dominating around/toward others. So - that ability to shut off & become defensive like that, & so fast, was developed later on. She’s got a bite now that was learned, because she had to bite to survive. For her own sanity. Do you know how much work that would take to unlearn & heal, if she ever even tried? oh my. Yeah I’m not well. I don’t think she would have much faith in it changing either, it’s become such a part of her. I think she would feel a little lost without it.

That first bit kills me - but what kills me about this scene most, is that last bit. Where she tries to push back further with a comment she know will be funny and just a little hurtful (towards stan, im sure she thought) and that will further deflect. But it backfires and hurts her instead. Her voice breaks. It breaks and her eyes soften and it looks like that just for a moment she lets the hurt shine through. Because that is especially painful, she cannot bury it. Her entire demeanour changes as those last few words are delivered (and Oh My God do they register fast - like she’d reopened that wound having no idea it was going to sting so badly.) and I just - oh my GOD. For that split second she looks like she might crack, the pain in her voice is so clear. & then the walls go right back up & it’s pushed right back down. I cannot deal. I absolutely cannot. Dorothy has let herself be vulnerable in the past, but has there ever been more than maybe (maybe) a handfull of instances where her voice & face soften that way? Anyway, I’m absolutely losing it over those little details. I’ve yet to find another scene where it feels like younger Dorothy shines through in the current. It hurt my heart so good and I cannot stop thinking about it :’) I think this is my sign to rebinge every episode in order. Because I am definitely forgetting - there has to be more.

Okay that’s all for now! If any of you have any thoughts or personal fav scenes (etc) to share as well please feel free!!! Dorothy angst seems to be my drug of choice lately lmao

(like two bits of this were my own interpretations of Dorothy’s character based on observation, don’t take them as canon nor am I claiming they are, because we obviously don’t know exactly what happened in between + younger Dorothy didn’t have much screen time :’)! Headcanons are just so much fun to throw around!!)

She <333 <33333333 <3 <3 <3 heart heart heart xxoo literal angel

[takethistoyourstardust]

Mage Ranks the JD2023E Map… Locked Out of Heaven

IT’S BLORBO TIME BITCHES. Um, I mean, we’re getting a bit dramatic now in our story line, as we meet Jack Rose, the flamboyant superstar son of our main villain!

MAP: Locked Out of Heaven - Bruno Mars DIFFICULTY: Medium EFFORT: Moderate JD+ NEEDED?: No SEASON: Base game/Enter the dancerverses playlist

Category Seven Autism Event inbound under the cut! Seriously, though, this one is long, ramble-y, and overall just a big excuse for me to infodump the fuck out of this map. It might not make a lot of sense, but putting it all down made me happy, so I hope it makes you happy to read it :)!

--

I don’t need to tell you this song is good, right? It’s Bruno fuckin’ Mars, of COURSE it’s good! This song was actually pre-Uptown Funk, and it’s honestly one of his best songs from that time. I actually hated a lot of early Bruno Mars stuff (Grenade my beloathed), but now he’s probably one of my favorite vocalists. So yeah, I don’t need to tell you the song fucks! You already know that!

However, it’s the way that this song is used that fascinates me. The original context of the song is just “wanting to spend the night at someone’s house because they’re real good in the sack”, and the JD team saw that and went “But What If It’s About Parental Neglect” and ran with it. During the second verse, Night Swan’s face keeps taking over the background, that’s supposed to just be reflections of Jack dancing. And during that final chorus, after the first gold move where Jack is on his knees, and Night Swan Tower reveals itself, the jumbotrons that had Jack’s face on it are replaced by the tower’s visage, as the chorus sings “I’ve been locked out of heaven/for too long/for too long” and it fades back to his room, right where we started. Hell, even before that, he’s pointing to the audience during the lines “Can I just stay here?/Spend the rest of my days here?”, telling us in pretty fucking clear terms that his passion isn’t what he’s supposed to do, but what he wants to do - perform. He’s been locked out of heaven for too long, he’s been kept away from the love a mother should express for her child. And now he’s trying to find that happiness in his performance.

Speaking of, the routine! It’s fucking great! I think it’s ranked pretty fairly in terms of difficulty and effort, but if I can be honest, I found this routine shockingly easy. It’s not the easiest thing in the world, but after the technical nightmare that was Rather Be, and the (slight spoilers) upcoming technical nightmare that is Majesty, I would consider LOoH as almost a breather level. Almost, I say, if it wasn’t for the FIFTEEN SPINS you have to land. Seriously, between the one leg spin-hop, the full circle he makes during the chorus, and even the spin you have to do before the final Gold Move, there’s a reason a lot of people were joking that this song should’ve been called “Spinned Out of Heaven”. But maybe it’s the theater kid in me (it’s probably the theater kid in me), I didn’t find the spins all that difficult or demanding. And both the Gold Moves in this routine are fairly easy, with one being the jump you have to do at the start of the final chorus, and the other being the final move in the entire song, the hand raise that you started with. If I had to complain about one thing, I would say that I wish they had you “holding” the microphone in your right hand more. It’s easy for me to imagine holding the mic while doing certain moves, the bridge of the song being the most obvious, but most of the time it’s “in” your left hand when the game only tracks your right hand. It’s just a bit of a dissonance in my head, where it goes “wait, but i AM holding something in the right hand, why are you saying there’s something in my left?!”. But at that point, that’s just a nitpick.

The whole choreography tells us so much about Jack as a dancer. He’s flamboyant, he’s a showman, he lives for the dramatics. He knows how to work a crowd! His stage presence is amazing.

Speaking of! Jack Rose! The blorbo that has ruined my fucking life!!!

Quick note before I get into this... I’m not crazy when I say his name, Jack Rose, probably comes from the two main characters from Titanic, Jack and Rose, right?! No one else has pointed this out, not even the wiki, and I feel like I’m going fucking crazy. Like I know “Jack” is a very common guy’s name and “Rose” ties into the face his main color is red, but together? That’s a Titanic reference, baby! I’m not the only one who saw that, right?????

Anyways! Look at this man in his red suit, his stupid (affectionate) feather boa shoulder piece, his lipstick matching his hair, his gold glove, his stupid little microphone!!! All of this combined makes for one hell of a memorable character, at least for me. I love love love love LOVE monochrome character palettes, I love the mix of reds and blacks, I love it when random strappy things are on a character, I love a little pop of fur...

... wait a god damn second. Those are all the elements my ultimate blorbo of all time has!!!

(pictured: my ultimate blorbo of all time, aka my warrior of light in final fantasy xiv, ahrora, in her current outfit. note the reds, blacks, strappy things, and pop of fur. no matter what, she’s always gonna be my absolute favorite just because she’s my oc i poured so much into. don’t worry rora, you’re not getting replaced, you never could be <3) (it doesn’t help that her main class is quite literally dancer ALDFSKJAS;DFLKJASLD)

Okay, that’s a bit of a stretch, but I do adore red-coded characters, and honestly with the feathers it’s reminding me of one of my top 5 favorite characters of all time, Yamato Kazakiri from Animal Sentai Zyuohger, mostly because they’re both red and both give off Bird Vibes and not much else. But Yamato could sometimes serve this type of cunt. But now we’re getting twenty miles off from the topic so let’s get back the fuck on track.

Okay I’m sorry this is so much longer and more disjointed than the other reviews but this map makes me scream cry and throw up.

The map starts with Jack as a kid, dancing alone in his room. His mother, Night Swan, looks on, and motions in a way that says she’s disapproving of her son’s actions.

How it’s supposed to come off: Night Swan disapproves because Jack is supposed to be training to be the leader of her army, and shouldn’t have time for frivolous shit like “his own happiness”.

How it comes off to a lot of people: Night Swan disapproves because Jack is expressing his interest in a traditionally “feminine” hobby.

I’m not sure how many people related to that second interpretation, but I did see a LOT of people say that’s how they felt when they saw this cutscene for the first time. Personally, my interpretation was more like the first one; Jack wasn’t being absolutely perfect, and she thinks that if he’s not, he shouldn’t even bother. Of course, a bit of parental neglect never stopped anyone! It just traumatizes and yassifies you!

Honest to god, when I first saw this transition from his child self to his adult self, it made me gasp a bit, Even after his mother has expressed disapproval, he’s still going forward with being a performer. Sure, he is the main leader of her assimilated army, but he just wants to perform in front of people! And he loves it! And the audience loves him too!

But at the end of the day, the one person who he just wants to get some form of approval from won’t give it to him. He’s not good enough.

No, not good. She doesn’t care much for good.

He’s not perfect enough.

God, the love of performance and heartbreak over still not getting any love from his mother after all this time is portrayed so well by his dancer. Makes me feel extremely insane.

I think a question that’s fair to ask is “well if she wants Jack to follow all her orders, why not assimilate him, too?”. And I think the answer is twofold. One, she needs someone who’s able to make snap decisions outside of her own brain to lead her army successfully. If you’re left to your own devices, you may end up making a huge mistake you didn’t foresee. And secondly, no matter how much parental neglect she’s shown Jack, on some level she can’t bring herself to assimilate him because he is her son. She doesn’t care about his happiness, but she doesn’t want to lose someone who may potentially be the final tie to her life before Night Swan, since the dad seems to be M.I.A. And her disapproval of Jack being a performer might stem from her own insecurities of being a failed ballerina; she’s already gone through the pain and humiliation of trying to be a performer and failing, and she doesn’t want Jack to go through the same. Of course, there might be an element of jealousy there too. He IS a successful performer. He’s performing in front of an arena of people, for god’s sake! She’s seeing him live out a dream she couldn’t have, and wants to shut that down for him.

Many thoughts, head full, blorbo living in there.

Of course, by the end of the map, the Just Dancers make it through to where he’s staying...

But for now, that’s where our story must stop.

--

GENERAL RATING: THUMBS UP!!!!!!!!

SPECIFIC RATING: 10/10

Holy shit this is my favorite map in the whole game. I don’t give a shit. The choreography is fun and easy for a theater kid like me to grasp while still being genuinely challenging in a fair sense, the story of the map is told so well in less than five minutes, Jack Rose is just an iconic coach, everything about him just rattles my fucking brain like a cup of dice. Does he know how much I care about him!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And to top it all off, he gets a song that already fucked hard and gets it recontextualized to be about an emotionally distant, neglectful mother, and how he just wants that closeness with somebody, anybody, and that he just wants to perform!

He just wants someone close to him to care about it, too!

... Is that really too much to ask?

--

THANK YOU for reading, especially if you actually DID read my absolute fucking brain rot on a page and didn’t just scroll down to the end. No shame if you did, I would do the same LMFAO. Next time, we’re looking at the penultimate song in the playlist, Majesty! There’s no obligation to follow me (especially not after the absolute thesis i just wrote), but if you wanna see my rankings of all the other JD2023 maps, please stick around! I promise they won’t be as long/disjointed/nonsensical as this one ended up being! Have a good day!

~ Mage <3

[oak-swallows-garcia]

sparrow for the character thing!!! (you’re welcome)

YEEEEEAH LETS GO

Sexuality Headcanon: I think this is a pretty popular one, I’m really attached to the idea of aroace Sparrow. I definitely think Rebecca was the main driving force behind their relationship, and maybe there was a point in their lives when they were the absolute best of friends and shared a lot of love but just from how unconcerned about her he’s been the rare moments he’s both had talk time and she’s been brought up… I dunno, dude, doesn’t sound like a man in love to me.

Gender Headcanon: Cis but he’s thought about it a Lot

A ship I have with said character: well! i don’t have ships for sparrow, but i hc grant as having had crushes on both the twins growing up (his crush on henry just transferred), just at different times. i think it’d be cute if they shared a kiss once and it was awkward for a While.

A BROTP I have with said character: I think once Lark has been distancing himself for a while and Sparrow realizes they’re never going back to the way things were he leans Hard into the rest of the group, and while Grant means well, he’s pushy with his questions and too solution-oriented- it makes Sparrow feel like he’s somehow not done enough to fix his family and the feeling sucks. Nick is in hell half the time, and Sparrow never really knows what he’s going to get from him anyways. He and Terry become really close, they bond over having bumbling idiots for fathers. They’re both really observant, and they get to the point where they’re able to read each other so well they know what the other needs even if they don’t know themselves. I think Terry never really processed everything that happened to them as kids, and being able to talk it through with Sparrow without the expectation of a breakthrough or anger or cavalierness really gets him to a point where for better or for worse, he’s at least able to accept it all.

A NOTP I have with said character: Rebecca. Lmao.

A random headcanon: Short but hurts me a lot. He tells Hero he’s proud of her often. Not as big statements, but I think he notices when Hero’s doing something right more often than he notices it from Normal. Little things like report cards or new skills or hobbies she’s picked up; he’s not doing it on purpose but he’s so worried about Normal being Like That everything Normal could do to potentially make him proud is a step in the right direction but it isn’t enough for Sparrow.

General Opinion over said character: Generally I want to put my favorite characters through the shredder and pick them apart piece by piece but I wanna put him back together actually. Current favorite of the sondads (or kiddads whatever you wanna call them). Your Honor, I love him.

[kaw-the-bird-is-reporting-liiive]

trigonometry is so funny cuz like sin has all the good stuff :

sin (0) =0 -> iconic we love when stuff equals 0

sin(x) ~ x -> omg so easy to remember and use unlike some other function like cos(x) - 1 ~??? (only near x = 0 but guess what, in physics almost every number is somewhat close to 0)

sin'(x) = PLUS cos(x) -> omg so convenient, i sure hope cos'(x) = +sin(x) so they can be besties without any betrayal😅

sin(x) > 0 -> keep it positive! (as you smash cos the floor!) (only true when we stay on the good side of the circle but what kind of freak goes to the other side??)

but like for some reason, the main character is cos.

[pcktknife]

like that pairing is so bad to me it is not even funny

im actually so sad about walking out of that show not really liking the canon lesbian relationship....like....i love women y'all....

[kateschi]

between bites and blushes

synopsis: class 1-a speculates about your secret relationship. as the teasing continues, a small slip reveals the truth, leaving everyone stunned—and katsuki annoyed.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x f!reader

class 1-a buzzes with speculation as you sit among your classmates in the common room, a warm lunch spread out before you.

whispers ripple through the table, each voice eager to share their theories about your love life. you smile, pretending not to notice the heightened interest.

“who do you think y/n is dating?” kirishima asks, leaning forward with a bright smile. “I mean, she’s been acting kind of secretive lately.”

“yeah, and she never talks about him,” kaminari adds, his eyes wide with curiosity. “it’s gotta be someone from a different class, right?”

midoriya furrows his eyebrows. “maybe it’s someone in class 1-b? I’ve seen her talking to some of them during training.”

you chuckle softly to yourself. you’ve been keeping your relationship with katsuki under wraps, wanting to enjoy it without the pressure of everyone’s scrutiny.

as if sensing their curiosity, katsuki sits down beside you, his presence immediate and commanding. he slams his tray on the table, causing a small shake, and grabs his bowl of spicy ramen.

“what are you losers even yammering about?” he asks.

“oh, just talking about y/n’s mystery boyfriend!” kaminari blurts out, his grin mischievous. “you know, the one she’s too secretive to talk about!”

katsuki narrows his eyes, looking between you and kaminari, as if he’s weighing how much to care. you can’t help but smile at the situation.

“you guys should really focus on your training instead of my dating life,” you say lightly, enjoying the way katsuki shifts slightly in his seat, the faintest hint of annoyance crossing his features.

after a few minutes of banter, katsuki pushes his ramen aside to make room for dessert—an assortment of mochi he’d been saving.

you watch as kaminari, with his usual absent-mindedness, leans over to grab a spoonful of katsuki’s ramen while katsuki’s attention is diverted.

“hey, what are you doing?” you call out, but it’s too late.

kaminari shovels the food into his mouth, a blissful look on his face. the moment he registers what he’s just done, his eyes widen in horror. “uh, oh...”

katsuki whips around, his expression darkening as he realizes his precious ramen has been tampered with. “hey! what the hell did you just do?” he roars, a vein in his forehead twitching with irritation.

kaminari’s face pales. “I-I thought it was just a taste! it looked really good!”

“looks good? you think that gives you the right to just take my food?” katsuki yells, rising from his seat, quirk already sparking at his fingertips.

the common room goes silent, all eyes glued to the impending chaos. kirishima grabs kaminari’s arm, pulling him back instinctively. “dude, you might want to apologize before he goes off!”

kaminari stammers, “I-I’m sorry! it was an accident!”

katsuki marches over, and in a flurry of furious energy, he pushes kaminari back, delivering a quick, sharp punch to his shoulder. “next time, ask before you eat something that isn’t yours, you dumbass!”

the rest of the class watches in a mix of awe and nervousness as kaminari scrambles to defend himself, stumbling back to his seat, where he winces in exaggerated pain.

“man, you really care about your food, huh?” kirishima laughs nervously, though the humor is tinged with apprehension. “I wouldn’t want to be on your bad side!”

katsuki grumbles something unintelligible, his gaze shifting back to you. you can’t help but giggle at the absurdity of the situation.

days pass, and the class is still buzzing with excitement over kaminari’s mishap. speculation over your love life continues to swirl, but you remain tight-lipped, enjoying the mystery and the quiet joy of your relationship with katsuki.

then, one day, as you sit in the common room with katsuki, you eye his leftovers sitting on the coffee table. he’s absorbed in a training video, and you can’t resist the temptation.

you reach over and take a bite of his remaining ramen, savoring the rich flavors.

katsuki glances over. “y/n,” he warns.

you flash him a playful grin. “just having a little taste! you don’t mind, do you?”

his expression softens slightly, and he shakes his head. “if you’re hungry then just tell me, so I can make you more.”

you grin, warmth flooding through you at his casual offer. “aww, you’d do that?”

“of course! just don’t go stealing my food like some idiot,” he replies, crossing his arms, but there’s a softness in his tone that makes you smile.

just then, the rest of class 1-a filters into the room, their curious eyes darting between you and katsuki.

kaminari, still nursing his bruised pride, can’t help but speak up. “so, you’re not gonna beat her up for eating your food?” he asks, a teasing lilt in his voice.

katsuki looks at him, utterly perplexed. “what kind of jackass beats up his girlfriend?” he retorts, his expression a mix of confusion and annoyance.

a heavy silence descends over the room, the weight of his words hanging in the air. your classmates exchange stunned glances, eyes wide with disbelief.

the realization hits them like a wave, each one processing the implication of katsuki's casual admission.

“oh, that’s why you’ve been in a good mood lately—” midoriya blurts out, his eyes going wide with understanding.

katsuki’s face flushes, and he instinctively pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as if to shield you from their astonished gazes.

“stay out of our business!” he yells, then he points at midoriya, “especially you!”

the room erupts into a flurry of shocked voices, each member of class 1-a grappling with the sudden revelation. uraraka’s mouth drops open in disbelief. “wait, you guys are actually together?!”

kirishima’s grin grows even wider, and he nudges katsuki’s arm playfully. “dude, that’s awesome! I didn’t see that coming!”

you can’t help but laugh at the chaos, your heart swelling with affection for katsuki. you think that that nobody is noticing that katsuki’s hands are crackling, and that his eyes are picking his targets.

you figure that you won’t tell them, since, hey, good chaos is healthy every once in a while.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[lacy-oh-lacy]

i genuinely need you to write something for rio vidal plzzzzzz i’ll take anything but your writing is perfect so id love for you to write something *cough* dominant jealous rio *cough*

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉'𝒔 𝒈𝒓𝒊𝒑

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

𝑨/𝑵: Omg thank you, Anon. You're too sweet 𖹭

𝑪𝑾: Fem!Reader, Dom!Rio, Jealous!Rio, Soft domming, knife play, biting, magical G!P, possessiveness

Contrary to all common sense, the quickest way to find yourself on Death’s radar was not through an act of death itself. Not by losing your life or taking another's…

No, it was through her girlfriend.

A stranger's lingering gaze or a friend's pda never escaped Rio’s attention, and a repeat offender, like oh say… that coworker of yours you were talking to at that very moment…

Well, they managed to make an enemy out of the force of nature that could usually pride herself on her indiscriminate apathy.

Rio lurked in the shadows outside your workplace, eyes darkening as that fool made you laugh.

She wasn't even two minutes late to pick you up, and already that snake was curling around you. Unbelievable.

You didn't think anything of it, Rio knew, but she could see in that man's eyes every disgusting thought he was having about you.

It made her sick, it made her burn.

Well, if the shades of purple littering your neck didn't clue him in to the fact that you were taken, she was beyond willing to do it herself.

Under the cover of darkness she shifted her attire with a thought, striding over in a new, clean-cut suit that made his own look like ratty hand-me-downs.

You perked up as soon as you noticed her and it made her heart leap. Your bright smile, your appreciative eyes taking in her new look…

He could never make you glow like that.

“Hey, Baby.”

Rio couldn't help a quick smile reserved only for you as she joined you under the streetlight, arm wrapping around your waist. “Hello, my love. Sorry I'm late, work was murder.”

She turned to face your companion, with a cold and withering stare. A look that could take years off a life.

“Who's your friend?”

You could never truly estimate the depths of Rio's jealousy but you knew that look well enough to know you had to get her out of there.

And you knew it well enough to not be surprised by the intensity she brought to the bedroom that night.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“I missed you today.”

Rio replied in her softest tone, someone less attuned to her might not have even heard the boundless resentment living within it, “You seemed like you were enjoying yourself.”

Leisurely, she traced her knife from your jaw, down your neck, applying a spine-tingling pressure just short of breaking skin.

“Yeah well, that new guy I work with is pretty fun.” You said breathily, not biting. Her blade caught on the collar of your shirt, lingering above your hammering heart, and Rio laughed.

Never before had such stubborn brattiness looked so good on someone, but you were just something else… teasing her even with a knife to your chest…

She cut through the fabric in one rough slash. “Careful, Lover. Wouldn't want to shorten such a fun man's life span, would you?”

“You wouldn't do that.” you challenged

“Try me. I'd do anything to keep you.”

The sincerity of the statement should have frightened you, but it was intoxicating. To be the object of such devotion from Death herself was a head-spinning high that no drug, spell or new lover could match.

“You'll always have me, Rio.”

There was a pain to the look she gave you in return, a wound behind her eyes, but she found a smile for you before she circled behind you.

“I’d better.” She breathed in your ear, pulling the tatters of what used to be your shirt from your body.

The tip of her knife traveled down your spine, barely grazing your skin on a trail to your skirt, which she skillfully cut open, baring you to her completely.

“My pretty girl…”

Her hand smoothed over your ass-cheek with near reverence before disappearing between your legs.

You gasped, skin aflush, but all too soon you realized she wasn't done playing with you yet.

“Please.” You whimpered as her fingers slid across your folds, just short of where you needed them.

“Say my name.”

“Rio, please, I need you so bad.”

She drew a lazy circle on your clit and your breath hitched, “Well how can I say no to that?”

A tingling warmth followed her hand on your back as she pushed you forward, forcing your chest onto your dresser and you into a bend.

You barely noticed the hardness of the surface against your breasts. You couldn't concentrate over the thought of being so exposed to her, and even that died with your last remaining brain cells as you felt the tip of her cock against your entrance.

She could've gone right in, you were wet enough for her to, but she slowly dragged up and down your slick folds, cock head catching on your clit every time and setting your nerves ablaze.

“Rio.” You whined.

“So impatient.” She laughed. “Don't worry, Baby, I'll take care of you.”

With that she pushed through your centre, slowly and gently sinking inside of you, savoring every blissful moan you let out.

She very nearly lost herself as you jerked against her but she resisted the rough thrust you were so clearly asking for. Your pathetic, little mewls, music to her ears.

She bottomed out inside of you, letting you adjust, letting you enjoy being filled. Then quicker than you could process she pulled out and slammed back in.

You cried out, but Rio wasn't slowing down this time, pounding you again and again with deep, unapologetic thrusts.

“You're mine. You hear that? Say it.”

“I'm yours, Rio.” You choked out, voice bouncing with her pistoning hips.

“Yeah, you’re mine. My good girl.”

She leant forward, her breasts flush against your back, as she sank her teeth into your shoulder, leaving behind a delightful sting.

Rio wasn't usually one for quickies but tonight she'd make an exception. There was a desperation inside of her stronger than mere lust. She had to see you cum.

She twisted her arm around your hip so she could work your clit, rubbing in a frenzy. “Tell me you want me.”

“Want you. Need you.”

“Then cum for me Baby, I know you can do it.”

Rio was nothing short of amazing. The concentrated skill on your clit and the near supernatural speed of her thrusts unraveled you like only she could.

Your mouth fell open and your walls clenched around her in a strangling hold as lust threatened to burn you alive.

“God! Rio!”

You came all over her and right on cue she emptied her cock inside of you, filling you to your very core with what felt like neverending ropes of cum, trapped inside of you by her refusal to pull out.

“I'm never gonna let anyone else do this to you, baby.” She breathed out, mouth returning to your shoulder to lick over the bite mark she left. “Never, for all eternity, I'm yours, and you’re mine.”

[zweetpea]

Yandere batfam one shot/imagine thing

I'll probably make a part 2

You met Bruce while you were working as a waitress for a gala. It was a second job to pay rent. Maybe he brought Selina or some other girl or maybe he came alone.

Either way you two end up in a room together and end up sleeping together. Just as you’re pulling on your clothes he asks to see you again. He even offers you a check (let’s say it’s for 500k). You take the money promising to see him again but you don’t for about a year.

After a year of him searching every corner of Gotham he finally finds you. And surprise surprise you have a three month old baby girl.

He goes up to you and begs you to let him be in the baby’s life. After a few weeks of bribes (and him secretly stalking you) you finally make a deal with him. If he works from home he can take care of the baby during the day.

So you brought your baby to the Wayne Manor. You expected maybe a servant or maybe Bruce to answer the door. You were not expecting a young man to open the door. He had short shaggy black hair with an undercut and a K-pop hair style. He stared at you with his piercing blue eyes-

“Tim drake! That’s who you are! I used to love watching your let’s plays! I love your sense of humor!” Tim was surprised. Being the middle child (especially the middle boy) he often feels left behind by his siblings, so having someone notice his accomplishments for once felt nice.

“Drake. What are you looking-” a short boy came up behind the gamer. He had a darker complexion and slicked back black hair with piercing green eyes. You smiled at him and he straight up slammed the door in your and your baby’s face. Your eyes grew wide and your face fell into a scowl.

You heard shuffling from behind the door and when if opened you saw Tim holding the kid by the scruff of his collar as one would do with a misbehaving animal. “Sorry about that Miss.” Tim smiled at you. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“I’m going to be late for work. Here give her to Bruce. Her name is Echo.” You give the baby to Tim. “Oh there you go. Support her head now.” You threw the bag in the small rude kids face. “Everything she needs is in there. I’ve left instructions inside for how to take care of her. If she doesn’t eat that much try tickling her tummy. I’ve labeled the extra bottles of her food so if she’s really hungry give her some and if it’s not enough call me I’ll get here as soon as I can. I don’t want her drinking any of that store bought crap. Understand?”

“Yes ma’am.” Tim smiled.

“Good.” You ruffled his hair. Then you turned to the younger boy. “Be good to my baby ya hear? Or else I’ll milk papa Bruce for every penny I can.” You ruffled his hair too. You then kissed your baby and went back to your car.

Tim shut the door and immediately Echo started crying. Bruce and Alfred came running at the noise.

“No… I missed her.” Bruce said. He looked at his three youngest kids. “Hey sweetheart.” Bruce tried to grab Echo. But Tim held her close. Everyone looked at him surprised.

“Father why did that rude lady drop off a baby.” Damian scowled.

“She’s not rude. She’s your future Step Mother.” Bruce smiled at the thought of your and his wedding. “Now Tim, give my baby here. She’s crying.”

“No.”

“No? What do you mean no?” Bruce seemed flabbergasted.

“She trusted me to hold her child. This is my baby sister.”

“Drake! Give father the baby. She’s being loud.” Damian covered his ears. Echo looked over at him and made a grabby hand gesture at him.

“It looks like she wants Master Damian’s attention.” Alfred pointed out.

“but-” Tim was cut off as Damian took the baby.

Echo’s cries grew quiet as her youngest older sibling held her. While Tim’s obsession with You and Echo became apparent almost immediately, giving him the praise his own family and the Media refused to, Damian’s was slow. It started with someone (echo) actually liking him. After all he went from being showered in attention under Talia’s thumb to being practically ignored at Wayne Manor.

Dick was by far the kindest to Damian, being a mentor to the young boy. But he could still bite back at Damian’s snark. Barbara and Stephanie took none of his crap, to the point where they barely spoke to him. Cass and Duke held no qualms about fighting with a kid. Jason was like a cool big brother and while he wasn’t at the manor often he always made most of his time there focused on the kid. Tim and Damian had a very strained relationship. And while Bruce loves Damian there’s always a bit of strain, and guilt on Bruce’s part. If he’d stayed with Talia maybe Damian wouldn’t have to grow up in a cesspool of Violence and mental agony.

“Back to your old ways of not wearing protection father?” Damian smirked.

“Damian… give me my Daughter.” Bruce said gently but firmly.

“Its nice to know you fought for her more than you fought for me. Though to be fair to you Ummi did shove us together.” He snarked as he held the baby who’d fallen asleep. Bruce went to grab her but Damian stepped back. “Ah ta ta. You wouldn’t want to disturb her right?” Damian smirked.

Over the next few hours Damian was mainly the one taking care of Echo if only to stop her from crying.

And at the end of the day when you finally got off work to pick up your sweet baby you were surprised to see Bruce, Damian, and Tim all playing with her in the living room. (What was more surprising was that her attention was mainly focused on the brat from this morning Damian.) She cooed as she saw you and you rushed to pick her up and gather her things into her bag.

Damian glared at you as you took Echo from his borderline iron clad grip. Who were you to take his sister, his blood sister mind you, away form him? (Her mother but we're not going to get into that right now.)

"Sweetness how about you just slow down. I'll have Alfred prepare you a drink. Which kind of tea do you like more Earl Gray or Jasmine." Bruce smiled and twiddled a piece of your hair in his hand.

You smacked his hand away. "No thank you. My baby and I need to get home." You said and quickly hurried out of there.

"Father you can't let her leave!" Damian said.

"Yeah! Don't you want that nice lady to be your wife?" Tim agreed.

"I was talking about Echo." Damian deadpanned.

Bruce ruffled both their heads. "Patience boys. Have a little faith in your old man." He smiled as you walked away. Before the month was out he'd have you and echo safely tucked away in his arms in the deepest recesses of Wayne Manor.

[remxedmoon]

HAPPY (kinda late oops) BIRTHDAY MIWA!!!!!!!! ignore the other two LOOK AT HER!!!! IT’S MIRABELLE MSUNDAY!!!!

greyscale versions + my very normal color ramblings below!

ok full disclosure i already had this post drafted before realizing that mira’s birthday was coming up. i kinda debated just posting the mira doodles on their own but!!! i want to talk about my craft/general color headcanons still. and the mira art is part of that!! so be warned. also, this is going to reference my post about my craft headcanons a lot so like. read that if you so desire.

i personally think that mira’s healing craft is some form of creative craft, since the game describes her holding her palms up when she uses it (iirc anyways). this doesn’t really have an effect on anything, but it’s why i decided to color it yellow!

(also i ended up making mira’s scissors craft a lot more orange than i initially planned but that’s ok!!! i think both of her crafts would be pretty Orange. just thought i’d mention that since it’s a bit different from my first post)

i already explained sif’s craft in my last post so now i get to talk about the change god!!!!!! this is like. probably the most out there in terms of my color headcanons? but i have a reason for that. since the change god is, well, a deity, i thought it would be fitting for their design to match the colors of the 3 craft types (red, blue, and yellow)! this was a little hard to work around given that i also try to give my vaugarde designs warmer color palettes, but i think it worked out!

i also gave them a few slightly different palettes, since i think it’ll make sense for the change god’s colors to be variable. they never look the same, so why would their palette look the same? + i’m indecisive and liked all of these palettes lol

sorry for the ramble! i really like talking about character design and i’m not. very succinct. thanks for reading all this (if you did, perfectly fine if you didn’t!), here’s the greyscale versions as promised!!!

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 Cherry Picking.

Spencer Reid x BAU!reader

Summary: After your first night with Spencer, you wake up and see that he's left you two dollars and a thank-you note on your bedside table.

Words: 2,3k.

Warnings & Tags: fem!reader. lots of mentions and references to sex, but nothing completely explicit. the reader is quite dramatic and has little faith in men (literally me, sorry). SO MUCH chaos and lack of communication but happy ending. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: This idea just came to me out of the blue, and I have to say that Sex and the City has had a bit of an influence. I love the chaos, the conversations between friends, and Spencer being the best man in the world (I'm picturing him kind of like in his season four version).

♡ Enjoy! ♡

Saturday afternoon

“Two dollars?!”

Penelope's and JJ's simultaneous exclamations and surprised faces when you finished speaking were pretty much to be expected. They noticed a change in your expression and took a moment to compose themselves, as did the rest of the people in the room, who glanced curiously at your table from time to time. It was certainly a fascinating sight, three women having an animated conversation about their lives over milkshakes as if they were drinks, especially considering that one of them was pregnant and her belly looked like it was about to explode.

You didn't blame anyone for reacting that way, especially not your friends. You were still pretty shocked by what happened, especially by how thoughtless the man you'd developed feelings for and worked closely with over the past few years was. It was a unsettling to find a tip on your nightstand after one of the most memorable nights you'd ever had. You still remembered the excitement you felt when you went to Spencer's apartment yesterday to watch a movie as part of your fourth or fifth date. He seemed nervous when you started kissing more intensely, and the couch wasn't the best setting. The sensation of your body on his bed and his lips on your skin was incredible.

It was a good memory, extremely good if you took away the embarrassment of waking up the next day in his empty bed with money waiting for you, as if you had performed a service.

“Maybe there was a misunderstanding and the money was left on the table by mistake.” Jennifer spoke again in a reassuring tone after turning the matter over. “Spencer can be a little clumsy sometimes.”

You pressed your lips together in a thin line as you listened to her attempt to provide an explanation for his actions. But given their friendship, this was to be expected.

“And he was in a hurry to catch his plane and go to his mother.” Garcia added with a forced smile, trying to lift your spirits. “It all makes sense.”

Yes, it was understandable that he was leaving in a hurry because he had to catch a flight to spend his weekend off with his mother. That didn't worry you, but there was something else that was curious.

“How do you explain the thank-you note?” You asked, taking out the paper and the two dollars you'd pulled out to show them as proof from your purse.

“It was a thank you for hanging out with him, a sweet gesture.” JJ said, taking a sip of her milkshake and patting her belly.

It seemed more like a sour gesture to you, that you had been left with your dignity on the floor. As you left his apartment, you didn't know whether to cry or laugh because it sounded like a bad joke that the only man you thought was decent and for whom you allowed yourself to have feelings would do such a thing.

“My love life is going downhill.” You said.

Just then, the restaurant door opens and Emily appears. After greeting her and apologizing for her late arrival, she asks about the cause of your apparent distress. As a profiler, she was astute enough to know something was wrong just by looking at you.

“What's wrong, honey?” She started talking as soon as she sat down next to you and took a quick look at the table. “Those milkshakes look good, I want one.”

“Spencer thinks I'm a prostitute.” You spoke up without thinking, which surprised Emily and caused her to briefly lose her grip on the menu.

There was a long, awkward silence.

Perhaps you were too direct in saying something that you had been trying to ignore for your own mental health.

“Just a heads-up, we've got a baby in the room. No need to say that word!” Penelope was the first to speak, gently covering JJ's belly with her hands. “He can hear you.”

At that moment, Reid and his comments about pregnancy data at every stage came to mind. You felt a little uncomfortable because you knew it was a little unrealistic to focus on the positives at a time like this.

“Oh, I'm so sorry, baby.” You looked regretfully at your friends and spoke to Jennifer's belly, giving it a gentle caress. “Don't listen.”

“I need context, please.” Emily said confusedly, trying to understand what was going on and why you had said what you had said.

You let out a deep breath, preparing yourself to recount the story once more.

“Okay, Spencer and I made...milkshakes. Very good milkshakes, really good if you know what I mean.” You tried to explain slowly, watching your words and your friends' expressions. “I woke up when he was leaving, he gave me a kiss on my forehead and said to keep sleeping, that he had to catch his flight.”

“That's sweet, but weird to know.” Emily commented quizzically, looking at the menu intently again. “What's the part...you know?”

“Oh, when he thought I was-” You stop yourself as you see how JJ looks at you. “A pie maker.”

You could tell from their expressions that they were about to laugh at your attempts to keep the conversation friendly.

“I woke up hours later to find two dollars on the nightstand with a thank-you note.” You finished the story. “To him, I'm worth two fu...sugary dollars.”

Prentiss stared at you for several seconds, waiting for me to tell her it was a joke. Only when that didn't happen did she speak. “That sounds weird and awful, but I don't think he would do something like that on purpose. Especially you, he really likes you.”

“He likes me enough to give me two dollars.”

When you finished speaking, you experienced a moment of discomfort in your stomach as your own words took effect. You were surprised to find that on a deeper level, what had happened was causing you more pain than you had anticipated.

“That doesn't sound like Reid at all. I've known him for years, and he's not that kind of man.” Penelope said with a frown, trying to reassure you. “I'm sure it's a mix-up.”

You were looking for the same thing and hoping it was just a misunderstanding, but your previous bad experiences made you think otherwise. You'd met enough men to know that they could always be worse. What was different now was that you really liked this particular man. You really longed for him to be different from everyone else.

However, things weren't always as you'd hoped. You'd invested a lot of hope in making your fairy tale come true, and it was starting to take its toll.

“Have you had a chance to speak with him?” JJ inquired.

“He's with his mother, I won't bother him.” You replied with a strange simplicity that made your friends suspicious. “I'm fine, I've calmed down.” You added as you saw their worried faces.

“I love you, but sometimes you scare me.” Emily said, watching you drink from your smoothie as if it contained a painkiller. “It's not okay to pretend that everything's fine.”

“It's understandable to feel a bit discouraged about this. Things may seem challenging at the moment, but I believe things will improve when you discuss this with him.” Jennifer's hand gently touched yours, offering a comforting gesture.

“I'm sure everything will be fine. You have our support if you need it.” Penelope joined in with the motivational words and gave you a reassuring smile.

You took the last sip of your milkshake and leaned back in your seat for a moment before replying. “I'm fine, girls. I don't plan to lose my head over a man, I promised myself.”

They looked at you with some skepticism, but you didn't flinch. You were confident that if you were mentally prepared not to be defeated, or at least not to look defeated, you would be well prepared for the day of the meeting.

You weren't going to lose your mind over this.

Monday morning

You were definitely losing your mind, and no cup of tea or internet video that promised to do so had been able to relax you one bit. You had been cooped up in the office you shared with Penelope for several minutes, pacing in your chair while everyone in the conference room waited for information about a new case and your presence. The mere thought of having to face Reid again was making you feel pretty uneasy.

All weekend, you had been trying to reassure yourself that you were doing well, that you were not hurt or affected by what happened, that it was just one more disappointment to add to the long list you had written since you were a teenager, and that it was normal for someone with your luck. You were not a princess, you were not going to meet a prince, and you were old enough to know that.

But being in the same building as your prince turned toad was not as easy as you had hoped. You prayed that your presence would not be necessary and that the jet would soon take off to take them all away, especially him.

A few sudden knocks on the door startled you. You automatically thought it was your boss coming to scold you for being late, and your blood froze.

“I apologize for the delay, Hotch. I assure...” You spoke promptly as soon as the door opened and a male figure appeared.

But obviously, it wasn't him.

“Oh, sorry, I'm not Hotch. But hey, how are you?” Spencer smiled at you and walked toward you, looking a little nervous.

“Fine.” You replied dryly, getting up from your seat to grab your tablet and some folders to carry into the conference room.

In your mind, you had planned to make a scene as soon as you saw him and make it clear that you didn't cost just two dollars. But after thinking about it a lot, the fear of losing your job over it was greater. And now it was a mixture of that reasoning with your feeling of paralysis at actually having him in front of you.

“I...I missed you over the weekend.” He stopped you before you could walk away, gently holding your hand. The feeling alone made you stop and look at him angrily. “I thought about you a lot, too much, and I bought you something.” He let go of your hand to pull a small box out of his pocket.

“How dare you?” You blurt out, taking a step back.

He looked a little uncomfortable and seemed to be in pain. “I'm sorry if I overstepped. I didn't mean to impose. Did I cross a line? I'm sorry, I just thought—”

“What? That you could embarrass me even more? Didn't I already go through enough?”

That's when you took out two dollars from your purse and gave it to him.

“Could I ask why this is?” Spencer was still frowning and looked just as hurt as you.

His apparent lack of understanding of the situation made you much angrier. You had thought he was probably the smartest man you had ever met in your entire life, but suddenly, in your eyes, he was an idiot.

“I'm refunding your payment, Reid.” You replied firmly, without hiding your frustration.

The confusion on his face seemed to multiply as he tried to understand. “What are you talking about? I gave you your money back.”

You tilted your head slightly to one side.

“Saturday morning, I left on the nightstand the two dollars you lent me a week ago when we bought coffee. You know I don't like being in debt.” Spencer began to explain calmly, taking a moment to gather his thoughts and present the facts in a clear and concise manner.

Oh, you do remember lending him money at some point, or rather, inviting him for coffee that he said he'd pay you back. That day when his hair was perfect in the wind, when he smiled at you and told you some interesting facts about coffee beans.

“I mentioned it when I said goodbye, but you looked so tired that I left you a thank you note in case you forgot.” He went on to explain. “A lot of studies say that you wake up to full strength at least 20 to 30 minutes after you actually open your eyes. And you still had them closed when I said goodbye.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“I...I thought you—” You fell silent as you saw the stunned look on his face. You didn't want to look crazy, so you quickly added. “I just thought wrong.”

“I'm sorry, I don't understand.” He said, a little embarrassed. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Oh, no, I just...did you bring me a gift?” You changed the subject, taking the box he had previously offered you. Inside was a necklace with a cherry blossom charm.

“Your computer wallpaper is a picture of cherry blossoms. And I saw this necklace in a store when I was walking with my mom, and I thought you might like it. But it's okay if you don't want it—” He spoke fast until you interrupted him.

“I love it, thank you.” You smiled at him and took the necklace out of the box. “Could you help me with this?”

With some trepidation and uncertainty still present, Spencer positioned himself behind you with the jewel in his hands, carefully brushed your hair aside and fastened the necklace around your neck. The sensation of his fingers brushing against your skin made you feel a slight shiver.

“Thanks.” You said as you turned around to face him. You gave him a hug, though you were a little unsure.

He returned your embrace, feeling a sense of relief that things between you were okay. “You don't have to thank me.”

“It's not about the gift. It's just a way to say thanks for being you.”

Perhaps he was your prince after all.

[poguelandiarafe]

unspoken truths | rafe cameron

pairing - rafe cameron x female reader

warnings - none, just some angst and fluff

summary - during a 'networking event' with your family and rafe's, you discover he's denying your relationship while you've been proudly showing it off. this sparks an argument where rafe admits his true feelings and vulnerabilities.

masterlist

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all night, a polite smile has been plastered on your face as you make conversation with people you hardly know. you don't want to be here, but your parents and the camerons, who are co-hosting the party at tanneyhill insist all the kids make an appearance. a united front to keep up appearances as the 'perfect families' of figure eight.

the party, or 'networking' event, as your parents put it, is far more formal than what you're used to. you're used to parties on the beach or some random kook's house, wearing a bikini or mini dress while drinking as much alcohol as you can—not a floor-length dress, sipping on champagne, and only speaking when you're spoken to.

you've been seeing rafe for a few months now, and though there's no official label on it, you know in your heart it's real. the late-night phone calls, the way he always manages to scope you out in a room full of people and never lets his attention stray from you, the stolen kisses in the corner of whatever room you're both in. which is why you see no problem with telling people you're together when your parent's nosy friends ask if you have a boyfriend.

a woman who you recognise as your dad's friend comes over to you, starting a polite conversation before asking, "so, any boyfriend yet?"

a coy smile tugs at your lips as you answer, "yeah actually."

"can i ask who?" she asks, eyes lighting up with curiosity.

"uh-rafe, rafe cameron."

her eyebrows lift and she scans the room, looking for him. you follow her gaze, unable to stop your cheeks from flushing when he smirks at you from across the room. see, he always finds you.

"oh, he's handsome. you're a lucky girl." she laughs before being dragged into another conversation, offering you a small wave which you return.

as the night goes on, you're asked if you're seeing someone by several other people, and each time you respond with rafe's name. what you don't know is that, on the other side of the room, he's in a conversation with people telling them the exact opposite.

"y/n? no, we're not together why?" rafe asks.

"oh, uh- she told us before you guys were. but i must've misheard." the businessman says, coughing awkwardly.

"yeah, you probably misheard her. we're just friends." he replies, his tone indifferent as he sips his beer.

unaware of this, you continue going around as if everything is fine, glowing from the compliments people are giving you. you don't understand how fake the compliments are until later, when you're standing by the bar and overhear a hushed conversation about you and rafe.

"rafe said they're just friends. i kind of feel bad for her, i mean, going around telling everyone you're together when you're not. it's embarrassing." someone whispers.

you freeze, your grip tightening on the glass in your hand. without a second thought, you scan the room looking for him, eventually spotting him laughing with a group of guys as if nothing's wrong. you're fuming, the sight making your blood boil.

marching through the crowd, you stalk over to him until he locks eyes with you, giving you a smile. normally you love his smile, but this time it makes you even angrier. the group of men around him sense the oncoming storm you'll inevitably bring and leave the two of you alone.

"hey, sorry i've barely seen you toni-" he starts but you cut him off, anger flooding through you.

"what is your problem?" you snap, crossing your arms over your chest that he can't help but sneak a look at, "just friends, huh?"

his brows furrow in confusion, "what are you going on about?"

"don't play dumb with me rafe. you've been going around all night telling people we're just friends."

"so?" he shrugs, casually sipping his beer.

"so?" you laugh bitterly, but your voice is laced with hurt, "i've been going around calling you my boyfriend. do you have any idea how humiliating this is?"

suddenly aware of the growing crowd, rafe steps closer to you, "i'm not doing this here y/n, come with me."

but when he tries to grab your hand, you pull it back, "don't touch me."

he knows you'll only argue with him more if he tries to grab you, so instead he walks away, knowing you'll most likely follow him. he's right, the clicking of your heels against the hardwood floor gives you away.

"rafe cameron, you do not walk away from me!" you shout, trailing after him until the door to his bedroom clicks shut behind you both.

you're standing in the middle of his room now, arms crossed and chest heaving in frustration as you glare at him. his beer bottle is still in his hand, bringing it up to his lips to take a swig before setting it down on the dresser. he brushes past you, opting to sit on the edge of his bed instead. the air between you both is tense, full of anger and confusion.

"you finished?" he asks, tone sharp.

"no, i am not finished," you fume, starting to pace up and down, "you humiliated me rafe. i was calling you my boyfriend like i was some delusional girl who's desperately in love with you. people pitied me when you denied us being together. do the past four months mean fucking nothing to you?"

he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, stare locked on the floor. a ringed hand runs over his buzzed head and he lets out a frustrated sigh. all the things he wants to say are swimming around his head, but the words get stuck, like the wall he's built up over time is refusing to let them out.

"of course they mean something to me." he says, voice softer than you're expecting, "but i've got my reasons y/n."

you stop pacing now, turning to face him, "so tell me. because right now you're just making excuses and i don't deserve that. i've been nothing but kind and caring and loving to you. i deserve to know rafe."

when he finally looks up from the floor, you're surprised to see his eyes full of tears, on the verge of spilling onto his cheeks. stepping forward, you cautiously place a hand on each of his knees, parting them until there's enough space for you to stand between them.

"please." you whisper, his hands coming up to rest on your hips.

"i don't know how to do this. i don't know how to love someone and not screw it up. i... i'm a disappointment to everyone and i don't want to be a disappointment to you. i don't want to screw this up." he admits, voice trembling.

"rafe, look at me," you softly demand, cupping his face to brush away the tears that escaped, "you're not a disappointment, okay? you won't screw this up either, but i need you to try. i'm not going anywhere anytime soon but it's not fair for me to put all my effort into us if you don't want this."

"i do want this," the words spill out in a rush, "i want this more than anything, i'm just scared. wanna protect you from all the shit i come with."

your heart aches at how vulnerable he's being. you've never seen him like this, always used to him being his confident, cocky self. leaning forward, you press a soft kiss to his forehead, then his lips.

"you don't think i knew what i was getting myself into? i can handle it, just like i have been. just want you to talk to me, okay? be honest with me." you murmur.

he nods, resting his head on your stomach and tugging you closer to him. for the first time all night, you feel him relax. his shoulders drop and it's almost like you can feel his wall crumbling, wanting to let you further in.

"come on, let's go to bed. i sure as hell don't wanna go back down there."

"okay." he mumbles, "can you stay here tonight?"

"wasn't going anywhere else." you promise.

you let your nails scratch at his scalp for a few seconds before trailing down to his tie, carefully tugging at it until it becomes loose. undoing it properly, you let it fall to the floor. reaching for the buttons of his shirt next, you begin undoing them one by one.

"you don't have to." he starts, but you simply shake your head, pressing a kiss to his lips.

"i want to," you reply softly, "let me take care of you."

your fingers gently brush his skin as you finish undoing the buttons, pushing the material off his shoulders and letting him shrug it off his body. the tension continues to leave his body the more your hands stroke up and down his arms. his hands, once gripping your hips, now trail up your back until they're tugging down the zipper of your dress.

once you're both undressed, you climb into the bed, pulling the covers back to invite rafe in, who's still standing at the side of the bed. letting out a shaky breath, he climbs in after you, instantly pulling you closer and resting his head on your chest. his warm breath tickles your skin as he nuzzles further into you, arms wrapping around your waist to anchor himself. your fingers run over his bare back, tracing patterns while his breathing evens out.

"you're not alone you know? i'm here for you, always will be." you murmur.

his arms tighten around you like he's scared you'll slip away, "i know. sometimes it's just too much. i don't want it to become too much for you."

you lean down, leaving a kiss on the top of his head, "it won't. and if it ever does we'll get through it together, because i told you i'm not going anywhere."

he doesn't say anything in response, but he doesn't have to. feeling how his hand finds yours and laces your fingers together, squeezing them is enough.

a few minutes of silence pass, and when you look down you see that his eyes are closed and his lips are pouting ever so slightly. he's fallen asleep. sleep that's much needed. you glance toward your phone on the nightstand, debating whether to text your parents or let them worry about your absence until morning. you're not in the mood for a fight though, so you quickly send them a message explaining you'd be spending the night at tanneyhill.

as you set your phone on the nightstand, the bedroom door creaks open, and a figure you recognise as ward obstructs the light from the hallway. his eyes scan the room looking for rafe before noticing he's mostly covered by the bedsheets, his head resting on your chest as you gently scratch at his scalp. ward clears his throat, attempting to catch his son's attention, but rafe's in a deep sleep, not even stirring at the sound. the door opens further and he steps fully into the room.

"hey, can i speak to rafe?" he asks, voice quiet but firm.

you shake your head, "not right now, just... leave him alone tonight ward. he's had a long day. he can't deal with anything else right now."

"it'll only take a minute y/n." he insists, eyes narrowing slightly in annoyance.

you don't waver, "no, just leave it. deal with it tomorrow."

with a reluctant nod, ward quietly leaves, shutting the door behind him. the room is left in complete darkness apart from the moonlight shining through the window, and rafe mumbles a sleepy 'thank you' against your skin.

"of course," you whisper, "i love you, rafe."

you feel him smile against you before mumbling, "i love you."